


Drabble Collection

by whatstheproblembaby



Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One-Shot Collection, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-02-13 06:35:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 76
Words: 55,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2140785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatstheproblembaby/pseuds/whatstheproblembaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To save myself from having to post over 100 separate stories, everything under 1000 words is getting filed in here. It's all fluff or hurt/comfort, mostly Klaine with a couple friendship/Anderbros fics. (Not like dating Anderbros, like brotherly Anderbros.)</p><p>Also, some of this is from 2013, so if something seems out-of-date, that's why!</p><p>Most recent chapter: Blaine accidentally overate, thanks to Tina. Kurt's both concerned and kind of ready to kill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reunion

Kurt was about to explode out of his skin. Finals week was finally (no pun intended) over, and he was about to board a plane back to Ohio, where he’d get to see Blaine for the first time in months.

Blaine.

His no-longer-ex-boyfriend, who was going to be able to come back to New York and NYADA with him in the fall. They were going to live together (well, along with Santana and Rachel, but that’s why they had privacy curtains) and go to the same school again and he could show Blaine all the interesting things in New York, like that bench in the park by his apartment where he swears he saw Pauly D sleeping once and the little alcove in between the dance studio and the main entryway at NYADA that he’s pretty sure is juuust the right size for two fairly slim boys to have a quick make-out session in as long as Ms. July is nowhere near.

But first, a long, warm summer where he can see his dad and Carole and Finn and make some extra money in the tire shop and cuddle his most likely oh-so-willing boyfriend until their arms fall off from blood loss.

That is, if his plane would just freaking take off already. It had been delayed for two hours because of some unexpected rainstorm covering Ohio (and of course the weather’s shitty in Ohio, why wouldn’t it be?), so he had been forced to buy overpriced airport coffee and text Blaine about the minor setback in his travel plans whilst he waited for the weather to clear up, but the boarding announcement had just come over the intercom, so he knew it couldn’t be too much longer.

After such an auspicious start, it was no surprise that the flight itself was horrid. He had booked the middle seat because it was the cheapest, so of course he found himself stuck in between a businessman with a pointy laptop and a woman whose body filled both her seat and half of his for just about two hours until the plane touched down in Columbus.  
He bolted through the airport as quickly as possible, going briskly through security and baggage claim until-

 _there_ Blaine was, gel shining in the fluorescents and eyes searching for Kurt.

Kurt launched himself at Blaine, dropping his suitcases at Blaine’s feet and wrapping his arms and legs around Blaine’s shoulders and torso, sending the both of them toppling to the ground under his momentum.

"Whoa, hey there, baby," Blaine wheezed from below Kurt. "I missed you too."

"Oh God, I missed you so much, B," said Kurt, giving a final squeeze to Blaine’s shoulders before picking himself up off the ground and offering a hand to Blaine.

"Really? I couldn’t tell by the surprise tackle hug. The football team didn’t know what they were giving up when you quit."

"Shut up, jerk. Don’t forget that I know where you’re ticklish."

"I’m sure your dad would love to hear that you’re threatening me, his favorite chi-" Blaine twitched violently as Kurt scrabbled his fingers along his sides. "Okay, okay, you win! Uncle!"

"No. Boyfriend. Or did you forget?" Kurt rejoined playfully, bending down to kiss Blaine lightly.

"I think I might have. You should take me back to your place and remind me." Blaine’s smile looked like the best toothpaste commercial in the world.

"I think I can manage that."


	2. Of Test Results and Tickle Fights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4x21 spec fic that was quite clearly jossed by canon. Damn.

Carole flipped through the mail idly on her walk back up to the house. Bill…bill…flyer…coupons…Lima Memorial letterhead…bill…

Wait.

Lima Memorial letterhead? “Results enclosed?”

"BURT! Burt, get down here right now!" she screamed from the entryway, causing Burt to come clomping down the stairs, Finn close on his heels. Kurt and Blaine whipped their heads around from the couch at the sudden noise, their episode of _Say Yes to the Dress_ forgotten.

"Jesus Christ, Carole, where’s the fire?" Burt asked, panting from coming down the stairs at Mach 10.

"Your test results are back!" she almost yelled, thrusting the envelope in his face. Burt grabbed it from her hands and froze after reading the return address.

"Do you want to be alone while you open this, Dad?" asked Kurt softly. He had a death grip on Blaine’s hand, not that Blaine noticed. He had gone completely still after Carole’s second remark, lost in his thoughts.

"No, no, I want my family around. That includes you, Anderson, don’t even try to fake an excuse to leave." 

Blaine blushed and relaxed, becoming aware of Kurt’s hand cutting off the circulation to his. “Kurt, hon, I kind of need that hand if I ever want to play piano again.”

"Shit! Sorry, B!" Kurt loosened his grip slightly, enough to allow Blaine’s hand to twitch a bit in his grip.

"C’mon, Burt, just open them already!" cut in Finn from behind Burt. "I left Rachel waiting in a Facebook chat upstairs and she’s still scary when she’s mad."

Burt took a deep breath and sliced open the envelope with his thumb, reading the letter aloud. “Dear Mr. Hummel, your results have returned and…you are officially cancer-free!” His voice rose to a shout on the last few words.

The entryway exploded into a cacophony of noise.

"Burt! That’s fantastic!"

"I have to go tell Rachel!"

"Oh my God, Dad!"

"That’s amazing, Mr. Humm- mmph!" Blaine’s shout of joy was cut off by Kurt’s lips latching onto his. "Uh…Kurt? What was-"

"I didn’t- I mean-" Kurt sputtered, flushing crimson.

"Carole, how about we go celebrate upstairs for a minute? I think my son’s about to give me a recovery gift," smirked Burt, taking Carole’s hand in his and smacking a quick kiss to her lips before following Finn up the stairs.

There was a lengthy pause, during which both boys turned to face front on the couch again. Blaine finally broke the silence when he couldn’t stand it anymore.

"If you just want me to leave, Kurt, I understand," he began.

"No, B. I…I need to talk to you," interrupted Kurt. "I know it’s been months since we broke up, but…I just can’t get over you. I finally stopped living off of sleep aids and sad movies - well, unless Bruce counts as a sleep aid - and I tried to get over you, really I did, but I can’t, Blaine, and I don’t think I want to. I understand if you have and you don’t want-" Blaine took on Kurt’s previous role and shut up his (hopefully no longer) ex-boyfriend with a kiss.

"Of course I want you back, silly. Was I not clear enough at Mr. Schue’s almost-wedding? One question, though." Blaine said with a goofy grin. "Who’s Bruce?"

"Oh no, I’m not telling you about Bruce- BLAINE!" Kurt shrieked. "S-stop tickling meee, oh my God!"

"If you don’t tell me, Kurt, I’m just gonna assume the worst. He’s probably some streetwalker, isn’t he? You wanted to re-enact the plot of Pretty Woman, didn’t you?" Blaine gasped with mock hurt. "I’m hurt, baby! I always wanted to be the Julia in our relationship!"

"F-fine, fine, Blaine, I’ll tell you, just stop!" Blaine let go of Kurt’s sides and let him recollect himself. "If you must know, Bruce is my - my boyfriend pillow," Kurt whispered the last two words, embarrassed. "I may or may not have sprayed a little bit of your cologne on him, too."

"Aw, baby. That’s adorable, in a heart-wrenching kind of way." Blaine hugged Kurt into his side. "I’m going to have to do my best to reclaim you from Bruce, now."

Kurt snuggled his head into the nook between Blaine’s neck and shoulder. “I don’t think it’ll be too hard of a fight.”

"You know I’m never going to let you live this down, right?"

"I will light your hair gel on fire, B."

"…Maybe I’ll let you live this one down after all."

"Good choice. Now shut up and kiss me, we’ve got some lost time to make up for."

"Gladly."


	3. Running Interference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kitty's on a mission, Kurt's confused, and Blaine's out of commission for a bit.

"Hey, Blaine! Any reason for the surprise call?" Kurt chirped happily into his phone. Usually Blaine didn’t call him until Tuesday night, but he always loved talking to his recently-reclaimed best friend.

"Can it, Hummel. I’m working on borrowed time here," an unfamiliar female voice responded. "The laxatives I put in Blaine’s water bottle might only last for another ten minutes, if I’m lucky."

"Wait, wh- laxatives? Who the hell are you?" Kurt was about two seconds away from hanging up and texting Tina his questions about what exactly was happening at McKinley now.

"Kitty Wilde, resident bitch and Celibacy Club president now that Quinn Fabray’s graduated. I’m on the Cheerios with your twink of a boyfriend, which is how I got his phone in the first place."

"First of all, he’s not my boyfriend, and second, there are so many things wrong with that introduction that my hair literally just combusted. Why, out of all the people in the world, are you calling me?"

"I’m calling you because if I have to hear one more sad Phil Collins song about you I’m going to smother myself with the thirteenth apostle’s obviously unwashed dreadlocks, and suicide’s a sin. What is it going to take to get you to get the pep back in Anderson’s kids’-size-extra-small step?"

"I-"

"I’m prepared to grab Blaine once he stops praying to the porcelain lord and blackmail him into doing whatever you want if it will make him stop looking like a kicked puppy whenever someone brings up your relationship."

"Oh my God, he does not look like a kicked puppy!"

"You’re right, he doesn’t. He looks like one of those disgustingly sad cleft-lip children you see on sappy feed-the-poor commercials."

"I…don’t even know how to respond to that."

"Then don’t. Now here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to stay on the line with me until Blaine can finally put his thong back around his junk, and then you two are going to have whatever rainbow-flavored conversation you need to get back together again so Blaine doesn’t make us sit through ‘On My Own’ when we do Les Mis songs next week. If this doesn’t happen, I will find you, and I will burn whatever hovel you’re undoubtedly living in in New York to the ground."

"He has to wear a- no, I’m not going there with you. Can I ask you one question, though?"

"I suppose that’s what Jesus would do, so sure. Fire away."

"Why are you really doing this, Kitty? You sound like the type who puts Nair in everyone’s shampoo just because you can."

"If you tell anyone this, I’ll deny it, but Anderson’s the one person here who genuinely likes everyone in this godforsaken glee club, which somehow makes him endearing instead of pathetic. Since he’s made high school slightly more tolerable for me, I’m trying to do something decent for him in return."

"That sounds like my Bee- I mean, Blaine. He did the same for me, you know."

"Save it for someone who cares, Hummel. Just because I told you one of my dirty secrets does not mean that we’re suddenly besties, okay?"

"Fine, whatever. Just know that if and when I come visit McKinley this summer, I’m going to make sure to suffocate you in a hug."

"I expect nothing less. Oh, thank God, Blaine’s finally done driving the ceramic bus. Here’s your phone, Ken doll."

"…H’lo?" Finally, a voice Kurt recognized.

"Hi, B. I think we need to talk."


	4. Monkey See, Monkey Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first Anderbros drabble! Cooper's 12, Blaine's going on 4.

Cooper was _hungry._ He was a growing twelve-year-old, so it was nothing new for him, but he was seriously craving some of his ma’s chocolate chip cookies, and it didn’t help that he could smell them coming out of the oven one floor below him.

It was time to bring out the big guns.

“Blaaaainey! Where aaaare you?” he sing-songed out of his room, wandering down the hall to his baby (well, not really baby, almost four, but he’d always be a baby to Coop) brother’s room. Blaine poked his head out of the pillow fort he’d been attempting to make.

“Coop! Here I am, Coop!” he called out. “I’m makin’ the Fortress of Sol’tude!”

“That’s great, Squirt! I have something that’ll be even _more_ fun, though.”

“Nu uh! Nothin’s more fun than playin’ Sup’man!” Blaine was so indignant from Cooper’s remark that even his hair was vibrating. He’d have fun controlling that bird’s nest when he got older.

“Nothing? Not even eating cookies while playing Superman?” Cooper was so close to having Blaine right where he wanted him…

“Cookies?!”

Sold. “Yes, Squirt, cookies, if we can wrangle them out of Ma. Have I shown you my patented ‘Cooper Anderson Puppy Dog Pout’ yet?”

“Noooo.” Blaine shook his head like their cat Maxie hunting a laser pointer.

“Well then, today’s the day, B. Just do what I do.” Cooper stuck out his lower lip and widened his eyes to juuust the right balance between “wounded forest creature” and “sad little orphan boy.” He was proud of how well he’d nailed that look.

Blaine studied Cooper’s face intently for a moment. “Like dis, Coop?” He stuck out his lower lip so far it actually wibbled a bit, and made his pretty hazel-gold eyes ridiculously big on his face. It was _adorable._ Cooper was a bit worried that Blaine would be better at that look than him one day.

“That’s exactly it, B. Now let’s go show Ma.” Cooper scooped Blaine up in his arms and spun around a couple times to make him giggle before thumping down the stairs to their mom. With Blaine on his side now, he’d be the best-fed kid in Westerville, if not all of Ohio.


	5. Blackmail Material

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gen fic with Blaine and the ND girls of season 4.

"No."

"C’mon, Blaine, you have to!" Tina pleaded.

"No!"

"Please, Blaine, do it for us!" Sugar joined Tina’s begging, molding her face into an over the top puppy-dog pout. Blaine wasn’t swayed.

"What part of ‘no’ wasn’t clear the first couple times, guys?" 

"But Blaaaaine, Nationals is right around the corner and we need to finalize our costumes and make-up!" Tina again. After last year’s weird fountain mishap that she’d still never really explained, she wasn’t leaving anything to the last minute, much to Blaine’s chagrin.

"Guys, you saw me at prom. You know what to expect." Blaine held steady. He wasn’t going to let Sugar’s big eyes and Marley’s sudden latching onto his arm push him into something he was sure he’d regret.

"That’s not gonna happen this time, Blainey-days. Unique’s bringing a secret weapon," said Tina. At the same time, Unique sashayed into the choir room.

"Have no fear, darlings, Unique has come to save the day!" she belted, waving a pink plastic make-up bag in front of her.

"What’s that?" asked Blaine, suddenly wary. He felt like a hyena cornered by a bunch of bloodthirsty lionesses, which gave him the hysterical urge to start singing "Circle of Life." He shook his head, trying to regain his focus.

"This, dear Blaine, is what’s going to give us the edge in our ‘Salute the Seventies’ Nationals routine," proclaimed Unique as she sorted through the bag. She pulled her hand out, showing Blaine a huge, bedazzled purple afro pick.

"No. No, no, no, no, no." Blaine made to get up and leave, but he suddenly found himself pinned to his chair by a lapful of Tina, and then his arms were being held against his sides by Marley. "You guys! This isn’t fair!"

"We just want to see what you’d look like with a proper afro, Blaine. Is that really such a crime?" asked Tina. "I’m not above tickling you to get you to comply."

"…Fine. But the story doesn’t leave this room. And no pictures!" Blaine resigned himself to his fate.  
_______________________________________________________________________

Twenty minutes, one violent shampooing, and three threats to “bring Sam in here, I swear to God, Blaine!” from Tina, Blaine looked like the poster child for the disco movement.

"It’s so fluffy!" squealed Sugar, reaching up to pat over Blaine’s head for the fourth time in two minutes.

"God, you look like late-nineties Justin Timberlake had a love child with his present self with that hair and those clothes," sneered Kitty, who had wandered in midway through the ordeal. "Smile!"

"What? Kitty, no-" Blaine whipped his head in her direction, but it was too late. The flash of Kitty’s phone camera sent chartreuse blots floating in front of his eyes. "I said no photos, Kitty!"

"Hey, I wasn’t in here, Brillo Pad, I didn’t know the rules," she replied, tapping at her phone. "I told Santana what was happening and she threatened to ‘go all Lima Heights Adjacent’ on me if I didn’t send her a pic, and I’m too pretty to die."

"Oh God, Santana has a photo now? I’m never gonna be able to look her in the eye again," moaned Blaine, dropping his head into his hands.

"Hey, no messing up the goods!" scolded Unique, batting his hands away. "I worked too hard on that for you to flatten it out not two minutes later."

"It looks fabulous, Unique. We’ve definitely found our look for Nationals!" cheered Tina, clapping her hands in excitement.

"You guys owe me so big for this, you know."

"Blaine, if and when we win Nationals, we will all chip in to buy you a bowtie in every color of the frikkin’ rainbow for this. Now sit there and smile pretty."

"Yes, Tina." Blaine was looking forward to collecting on that promise.


	6. Move-In Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, written long before season 5 and the actual canon events.

"Jesus Christ, Blaine, what the hell is in this box? Bricks?" Kurt huffed out as he carted one of Blaine’s boxes into what would now be their bedroom in Bushwick.

"I may have thrown, uh, all of my bow ties and sweaters in there?" Blaine replied sheepishly, making the statement sound more like a question.

"All of your- Blaine, I thought you stopped wearing bow ties last year!" Kurt dropped the box in the middle of the floor, making a thump that was sure to piss off their downstairs neighbors. They could deal, it was still quieter than their weekly 3 am Irish step dance party. Kurt had a recurring nightmare about four-leaf clovers and the Lord of the Dance.

"I only stopped because Sam told me they weren’t ‘the right image’ for being class president. Then I remembered that I was taking style advice from a guy who wears plaid button-downs every other day and rescued them from storage." Blaine crouched down to pull the flaps of the box open. "Oh, it’s been too long!" he said, stroking the top-most ties lovingly.

"B, we’re going to have to have a talk about your bow tie fetish," Kurt said, one eyebrow quirked judgmentally. "You sounded happier to see them than you were to see me at the train station this morning."

"Did I? I guess I’ll have to make up for that, then." Blaine got a predatory grin on his face after that statement and started sauntering over to Kurt. He leaned in for a kiss when- "No no stop what are you-"

Kurt scrabbled his fingers along the back of Blaine’s neck, making Blaine duck away and twitch madly. “That’s for loving your accessories more than me!” Kurt cackled, trying to keep contact with Blaine no matter how much he swerved away.

"Baby no I love you the most oh God please stop!" Blaine said all in one breath, tears falling down his face from laughter. "Uncle, uncle!"

"I suppose that’s enough payback for one day," said Kurt with a last giggle. "I’m not sure if I can trust you, though - you were under duress."

"You know I think you’re the foxiest man alive, Kurt." Blaine punctuated this statement with a wink and a pull to the fox tail hanging out of Kurt’s back pocket. "Even without being waterboarded into saying it."

Kurt leaned down and pecked Blaine on the lips. “All right, B, that fulfilled your bad pun quota for at least the rest of the year, if not the entire decade. Shall we get to unpacking?”

"I can think of one thing in particular I’d like to start with," smirked Blaine, eyebrows waggling in a way that was somehow both lascivious and goofy. Kurt didn’t understand how Blaine’s eyebrows worked sometimes.

"Cool it, Anderson. I’m not spending the semester living in squalor because my boyfriend was too horny to hang up his clothes when he moved in."

"You’re no fun, baby," Blaine pouted, giving Kurt his "the hunters just shot my mommy" eyes.

"I never said we couldn’t finish that way, B. Now hurry up, the faster your clothes are unpacked, the faster we can make full use of our one day to ourselves before Rachel and Santana drag their asses back here," Kurt ordered, bending over to grab a few of Blaine’s polo shirts out of the closest box and wiggling his ass playfully.

Blaine moaned quietly and got to work with a speed that Nightbird would have been proud of.


	7. There's No Name For It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes, the first of my "Kurt likes awful music" running gag. God bless.

“Oh my God, you do _not_ have this song on your iPod, Kurt!” Blaine squealed from his perch on Kurt’s bed, bent over the iHome on the nightstand.

“I don’t have what- Blaine, how did you find that playlist?!” Kurt shrieked as he walked in from the bathroom and squinted to see what song Blaine was looking at. “I gave it the most boring name possible so no one would look at it!”

“Baby, naming your shame playlist ‘Classical Music’ is really bad camouflage when you have a music major boyfriend who listens to classical to unwind,” Blaine said with the world’s biggest shit-eating grin.

“But- I-” Kurt sputtered, trying to come up with an excuse and finding nothing available.

“You would’ve been so much fun when we had Guilty Pleasures week in Glee last year. I thought nothing could top my Wham! obsession, but you really have me beat.”

Kurt was beet red at this point, but he attempted to make one last argument. “At least Zac Efron is attractive, B. George Michael is literally the walking, talking embodiment of every gay stereotype. There’s probably some homophobe in Ass Backwards, Iowa who thinks looking at his picture instantly gives you ‘the AIDS.’”

“It was the 80s, Kurt! Styles were different!”

”Irrelevant, Blaine. Irrelevant.”

“And like High School Musical is any better! They barely even tried to keep Ryan closeted!”

“B, you realize you and Ryan share the same penchant for fedoras and newsboys, right? You have no room to talk, honey.” Kurt pointed to his dresser, where the cute straw fedora Blaine had been wearing earlier that day was sat. “No. Room.”

“Fine, I guess we’re equally cheesy. But you know what that means?”

“…What?” Kurt really did not like the amused look on Blaine’s face right then. It set off warning bells in the back of his head.

Blaine started crooning. “You’re the harmony to the melody that’s echoing inside my head!”

“Blaine. Blaine, do not start this.”

“A single voice, above the noise, and like a common thread,” Blaine continued, hopping off the bed and taking Kurt’s hands in his, starting to dance around Kurt’s bedroom. “You’re pulling me.” He punctuated this statement by pulling Kurt tight to his body.

Kurt sighed in faux resignation and chimed in with Blaine, taking over the melody and leaving Blaine to take Troy’s part. “When I hear my favorite song, I know that we belong. Oh, you are the music in me.” They spun while they sang, Kurt letting Blaine lead the dance. Suddenly, Blaine stopped singing to pull Kurt into a dip and kiss him hard.

“Not that I didn’t like that, Blaine, but they don’t dance like that until High School Musical 3,” Kurt couldn’t hide the happiness in his voice, much as he wanted to sound snarky.

“Should I switch to that soundtrack, then?” Blaine’s smirk had to be cramping his face muscles.

“Shut up and dance with me more, Anderson.”

“As you wish.”


	8. Kisses and Kitchens

“Holy _shit._ ”

“I said the same thing my first time, B,” Kurt said after stifling a snicker at the wide-eyed, wondrous look on Blaine’s face. “Ikea is a madhouse. A magical, gigantic madhouse.”

“You can say that again, Ku- oh my God, is that a play place?” Blaine whipped his head back to stare at the enchanted forest-themed kids’ area they had just passed on their way up to the escalator.

“Honey, even you aren’t small enough to play in there. Keep walking,” Kurt directed as he placed his hands on Blaine’s shoulders to physically steer him away from the play place. “Just wait ‘til you see the mini houses. They’re like adult play places.”

“Mini houses?” Blaine perked up visibly, walking faster and starting to swerve around slower groups. “Let’s go!”

______________________________________

“Oh my God.”

“Again, I said the same thing.” Kurt could get used to being the Ikea Master if Blaine reacted to everything like this.

“Kurt, these mini houses are _so cool._ Can’t you just picture us getting an apartment like this next year?” Blaine asked, gesturing to the compact bedroom/living room/kitchen set-up Ikea had made in the middle of the showroom.

“B, my living room in Bushwick right now is bigger than this entire space. Try thinking a little bigger.”

“Baby, if we move into Manhattan proper like we want to, this is what we’re gonna be able to afford. You might need to think about downsizing.” 

“Bite your tongue. We’re barely going to have enough room for your complete rainbow spectrum of pants as it is, and now you want us to get a smaller house?” Kurt’s look of abject horror made Blaine start giggling for a good thirty seconds before he could answer.

“You know it wouldn’t be for forever, Kurt! Once we’re both massively successful on Broadway and the clothing line you want to design on the side takes off, we can live in the nicest apartment in New York. Hell, we can live out in the suburbs and commute into town. Whatever you want, I’ll do, baby.”

“I don’t know if I could ever leave the city. Maybe if we had kids, but even then, it’s not like growing up out in the wastes of suburbia did us any favors. Can I have some time to think about it?” Kurt’s mind was starting to speed up as he contemplated their future housing, making his forehead furl up and his eyes go unfocused. Blaine leaned up and smooched his forehead with a tiny “mwah!” sound.

“C’mon, baby. Let’s go get some frozen yogurt and look through the Kitchen Dreambook. You can pick the countertops if I can pick the cabinets,” Blaine said, grabbing Kurt’s hand and dragging him out of the display.

“Blaine, if we don’t even know where we’re gonna live, how are we going to design a kitchen? We need to know how much room we have and what the themes of the neighborhood and the rest of the house are and-” Kurt’s frantic reply was cut off by another kiss from Blaine, this time square on the lips.

“We can design as many kitchens as we need to. Now hurry up, I want some ice cream!”

“All right, all right, I’m coming! But if you eat that ice cream like you always do, don’t be surprised to find yourself locked in the men’s room with me.”

“You say that like it’d be a struggle for me.”


	9. Accidental Homicide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title implies otherwise, but I promise no Glee kids came to harm in this drabble.

The panicked repetition of “Oh God oh God oh God” coming from Blaine’s bedroom made Kurt start running up the stairs, boots clomping hard enough that flimsier wood would have cracked under the pressure.

"Blaine?! B, what’s happening?" he questioned frantically, thrusting the door open and bursting into the bedroom, eyes swiveling rapidly across the room and hands reaching into his pockets to grab for his keys, in case he needed a weapon. He saw that Blaine was stopped at the foot of his bed, probably shocked into stillness after Kurt’s dramatic entrance.

"They’re all dead, Kurt! Tina looks like she’s been put through a shredder, and Sugar-" Blaine’s moan choked off there. He looked close to tears, and his hair was wrecked, probably from Blaine’s compulsion to run his hands through it whenever he got upset. From the way his curls were starting to show amidst the random still-straight bits that stuck haphazardly out in all directions, this was a Category 5 Blaine Freak-Out.

“ _What?_ Blaine, we just saw the girls an hour ago when we left Glee for the day, how are they all dead? Is there a slasher in Lima now? God, this place wasn’t back-woods enough already…” Kurt trailed off there, losing the train of his rant in his worry. It took a lot to get Blaine this wrecked, and they’d just gotten over the stress of Burt’s diagnosis and the almost-school shooting. They didn’t need more problems.

"No, no, Kurt - my plants!" _Oh, right, the plants,_ Kurt thought. Blaine had decided to plant a flower in a windowbox in his bedroom for each of the Glee girls, and then give them to the girls after graduation as either “Congratulations!” or “I’ll miss you!” presents. He’d started calling each flower by the name of the girl he was going to give it to, which led to Blaine getting a bit too attached to them, apparently.

"B, relax. I’m sure we can fix this somehow," Kurt soothed, pulling Blaine into a tight hug. "But first, we need to talk about you referring to the plants with the girls’ names when you look like you’ve just jumped out of a horror movie. You almost gave me premature grays, Blaine!"

Blaine let out a small giggle at Kurt’s statement, pulling out of the hug but not entirely out of Kurt’s arms. “Sorry, baby. I just wanted to get the girls something really thoughtful and unique, you know? They’ve been so good to me this year, and I need to let them know how much I appreciate that.”

"They’ll know, B. How could they not? Now, let’s go take a look at these flowers," said Kurt, releasing Blaine to walk around him and get to the window. "Oh my God."

"I know! They look horrible, Kurt, how did that even happen?" Blaine’s tone returned to its original wail.

"Blaine, did you ever water these? And did you let that ankle-biter in here at all?" ‘That ankle-biter’ was Kurt’s way of referring to the Andersons’ dog Chloe. He’d held a grudge against her ever since she’d shredded a pair of his Doc Martens when he was distracted with "helping Blaine with his French."

"Uh, maybe?" Blaine looked sheepish. "I remembered to water them for a little while, but then it rained a lot recently and I thought they’d be fine from that. And I don’t think Chloe- wait, shit, I left my door open this morning when I left for school. She must’ve gotten in today."

"That explains your problem, honey," Kurt tried to say sympathetically, but he couldn’t hold back his amusement. "It stopped storming like three days ago, and your fluffy little rat has serious destruction issues. I think you’re going to have to find the girls another present."

"Maybe I’ll make them origami flowers. I got pretty good at that after your Christmas present last year, you know," Blaine said with a wink.

"On one condition." Kurt smirked back at Blaine.

"Oh, really? What’s that?"

"You don’t make them some cheesy, beautiful speech about what those flowers mean for you. That’s solely my territory, Anderson."

"It’ll be a sacrifice, but I think I can manage that." Blaine grinned and leaned up to kiss Kurt, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist as he went.

"Oh, you’d better, you little serial killer." Kurt got out before Blaine connected with his lips, laughing a little as Blaine bit him lightly in pretend frustration before deepening the kiss. Kurt knew he was going to pay for that one later, but it was still worth it.


	10. Moonlight Serenade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alternate getting-together AU. Kurt and Blaine are next door neighbors and childhood besties. Inspired by "Lovebug" by the Jonas Brothers

Kurt rolls over in bed to hear an insistent tapping at his side window. For any other window in the house, he’d be grabbing one of his sais and running the other way if he heard noise against it at eleven-freaking-thirty pm, but this window was an exception.

Extracting himself from his tangle of quilt, sheets, and fleece blanket, he walks over to the small window and opens it. “What do you want, Blaine?”

"I couldn’t sleep," the boy sitting on the adjacent rooftop says, smiling sheepishly in the moonlight streaming down between their houses. _God, he’s so fucking cute like that,_ thinks Kurt, making him shake his head a bit to clear out that thought before clambering out his window to sit across from Blaine on his own roof.

"So you started knocking at my window? Blaine, we have our first day of senior year tomorrow, I need to get my eight hours of beauty sleep!" Kurt’s voice is indignant, but he’s smiling. He can’t not smile at Blaine.

"You know you’ll be gorgeous no matter what, now shhh," Blaine replies. Kurt blushes at that statement. "Actually, I was hoping you could put my mind at ease about something. I’m really nervous for part of tomorrow."

"What’s bothering you, B?" Kurt’s genuinely concerned. Blaine’s the most unflappable person he knows, and it’s not like McKinley’s going to have changed at all over the summer. Hell, they won’t even get slushied - their victory at Nationals secured them a slightly higher spot on the social totem pole and now all the jocks are going after the Chess Cosplay Club.

"Well, I really like this guy, and I’m not sure if he likes me back. I was so hopeful that he’d walk in to school hand-in-hand with me tomorrow, but I think I’ve put it off too late. Got any ideas?" Kurt’s heart drops in his chest once Blaine stops talking. He’s wanted Blaine to ask him out for so long now, but it’s obviously too late. _Wallow in pity later, Kurt,_ he tells himself. _Right now you need to help your best friend be happy._

"You could always go serenade him. A midnight serenade from a cute guy always works in the movies," Kurt suggests, trying not to tear up picturing Blaine singing a love song to some random sleaze while hoisting a boom box over his head.

"You know what? That sounds perfect," Blaine says. His next move almost makes Kurt fall off his house. Suddenly, his hand is in Blaine’s and they’re both on Kurt’s roof now and Blaine’s singing softly.

_Called you for the first time yesterday_  
Finally found the missing part of me  
Felt so close but you were far away  
Left me without anything to say  
Now I’m speechless  
Over the edge, I’m just breathless  
I never thought that I’d catch this love bug again  
Hopeless, head over heels in the moment  
I never thought that I’d get hit by this love bug again 

Kurt’s stunned into silent tears, smiling what feels like the biggest smile he’s ever been able to produce in his life at Blaine, who cups his cheek and continues singing.

_I can’t get your smile out of my mind_  
I think about your eyes all the time  
Beautiful but you don’t even try  
Modesty is just so hard to find  
Now I’m speechless  
Over the edge, I’m just breathless  
I never thought that I’d catch this love bug again  
Hopeless, head over heels in the moment  
I never thought that I’d get hit by this love bug again 

Kurt leans into Blaine’s chest and snuggles unashamedly, finally out of his ‘is this really happening to me?’ daze. Blaine quickly pecks a kiss to his forehead before the next stanza.

_Kissed him for the first time yesterday_  
Everything I wished that it would be  
Suddenly I forgot how to speak  
Hopeless, breathless, baby can’t you see? 

Kurt can’t hold himself back any longer. He interrupts Blaine by kissing him square on the lips, hoping to convey just how okay he is with this late night surprise.

"You dork. You could’ve just asked me, you know. I’ve had a crush on you since we were twelve," is Kurt’s first statement once they get their breaths back after what Kurt’s calling the world’s best kiss.

"You know I never say something if I can sing it. Plus, I was afraid that you would say you didn’t want to ruin our relationship or something!" Blaine defends himself, attempting to pull back a little bit. Kurt’s having none of that, so he scoots forward even more and plants himself in Blaine’s lap.

"The only way our relationship could be ruined is if it ended, B," he says. "Now, you said something about holding hands on the way in tomorrow?"

"I’ll even buy you coffee for interfering with your beauty sleep."

"It’s official, I have the best boyfriend ever," Kurt grins and kisses Blaine one last time. "Good night, boyfriend."

"Good night, baby," Blaine helps Kurt off his lap and waits for Kurt to get back in his window before climbing back through his own. _What a gentleman,_ is Kurt’s last coherent thought before drifting into a contented sleep.


	11. Cursebreaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little!Anderbros at Disney World! Based off an old Tumblr text post.
> 
> (This might be chronologically before my other Anderbros drabble? I think.)

Cooper could barely contain his excitement. He knew it wasn’t cool to run around Disney World like a maniac when you were almost thirteen, but – _Disney World._

_Screw being cool,_ he thought to himself after seeing Woody and Buzz walk by. “Mom! That was Woody and Buzz! C’mon, Blaine!” Cooper yelled, grabbing his three-year-old brother’s hand in his before running after the characters.

Most of the day passed like that, with Cooper and Blaine running solely on adrenaline and funnel cakes and their parents just running, period. Finally, at about six o’clock, the boys were tired of chasing everyone and decided to hit a couple of the more low-key rides before dinner.

“Ooooh, guys, can we go on this?” Coop asked, pointing toward the entrance of the Haunted Mansion ride. “The line’s really short!” He shot his parents his best pleading look.

“Are you sure that’s not too scary for Blaine?” his mom asked him in return, looking down at where Blaine was half-asleep in his rented stroller, cuddling the Belle doll they’d gotten him earlier that day.

Blaine perked up when he heard his name. “No, Mama, I c’n go! I’m a big boy now, I’m thwee!” Coop could tell that Blaine wasn’t really sure what was happening, but that he wanted to go wherever Cooper went. Cooper made a mental note of how to use that in his favor in the future and went on begging.

“See, Mom, he says he’s fine. And I’ll take him by myself if you want, I can handle it! Pleeeeeease?” If Coop made his eyes any bigger, they’d fall out of his face for sure.

“Fine. But if he starts crying, you ask to get off the ride immediately, you hear me?” she warned Cooper, pointing in his face threateningly. He knew the point meant serious business.

“Yeah, Mom, I promise. Let’s go, Blaine!” Coop cried, scooping Blaine out of his stroller and into his arms. Thankfully, the line had stayed fairly short all through his arguing, so they didn’t have to wait very long. About fifteen minutes later, they walked into one of the carts and the ride set off.

Cooper and Blaine were enthralled by the ride, staring at all the moving pictures and gasping when the “ghost” appeared in their cart in between them. They were nearing the end of the ride when a ride worker in a skeleton costume sneaked up to their cart.

“Are you scared?” came the menacing whisper. Cooper was on the far side of the cart from this guy, and he about jumped out of his pants, but Blaine’s reaction was even better.

“Uh-uh,” Blaine said, and leaned over to kiss the skeleton on the nose. Cooper was upset that his parents had the camera, because the preciousness of Blaine’s gesture and the skeleton’s stunned silence afterward probably would’ve won them the big prize on America’s Funniest Home Videos.

Cooper could hear the skeleton laughing himself silly once their cart had left the room. “Why’d you do that, little bee?” he asked his brother. He was a bit surprised that Blaine hadn’t just burst into tears when that man had spooked them.

“In Belle’s movie, she kisses da beast ‘n he becomes a human ag’in!” Blaine chirped. “I thought maybe I could do dat too.”

“Smart thinking, Blaine,” Cooper responds, because really, that’s pretty clever for a kid who just turned three last month. “Wanna go tell Mom and Dad what you did?”

Blaine nods, and they run back to their folks, eager to explore even more of Disney World.

(Kurt hears this story fifteen years later. He has to excuse himself to the bathroom so Blaine won’t get offended at how hard he laughs.)


	12. To Defend You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have some pre-Elliott era jealous!Blaine.

Blaine’s never considered himself the jealous type before, but today, that’s changing a little bit.

 _Wow, I guess college really does teach you new things about yourself,_ he thinks offhandedly, continuing to watch the skit in front of him. It’s Welcome Week at NYADA, and today the freshmen are spending the day in different seminars about the intricacies of college life, while the upperclassmen are leading the seminars by acting out all the scenarios mentioned in the pamphlets the freshmen got.

“Hey, honey, you want to go out on the town tonight?” asks a buff, tall guy. He winks lewdly, making him look like a Popeye cartoon.

“No, I think I’ll stay in. Homework,” responds Kurt, barely glancing at the script he’s holding.

“Aw c’mon, we’ll only go out for an hour or two,” says the guy – Mark, maybe? Blaine had been staring at Kurt when the upperclassmen were introducing themselves and hadn’t heard all the names - “I promise we’ll be back with plenty of time for homework.”

“Well…okay,” Kurt shrugs, looking hesitant. Blaine forces himself to keep his face neutral, but inside he’s getting a little angry. Kurt’s acting is spot on, even if the dialogue is more wooden than Pinocchio, and it’s affecting Blaine more than he thought it would.

Meanwhile, Kurt and Mark have started to pretend they’re at a party somewhere, and they’ve both had a couple drinks. “C’mon, babe, let’s go upstairs,” Mark slurs badly, pawing at Kurt’s arm like he’s about to rip it off. _Seriously, how did he get into this school?_ Blaine wonders. _His acting is worse than Coop’s._

“No, I don’t want to. It’s already been three hours, and we’re both tipsy. I want to go home now,” Kurt bats Mark’s arm away and starts walking towards the classroom’s side door.  
“Don’t be like that, I know you want me,” Mark closes his hand around Kurt’s forearm, and suddenly Blaine can’t stop himself.

“HE SAID NO,” he shouts, rising out of his seat near the back of the room like he’s going to head up there and stop them himself. The snickers he hears afterward snap him out of the slight trance he had going.

“Uh, I’m just acting, dude,” Mark calls back to Blaine. “But good response? Way to prevent date rape!” he says faux-cheerfully, attempting to regain the informative mood.

“How about I escort this guy out of the room for a second, Mark?” Kurt asks smoothly, already walking back to Blaine. Once they get out of the room, Blaine surges forward and kisses Kurt.

“I’m so sorry about that, baby, I don’t know what happened,” he apologizes once they stop for air. “You were acting that really well, even if he wasn’t, and I just- I can’t see you get hurt and do nothing about it,” Blaine finishes, hanging his head a bit.

Kurt leans down and kisses him again. “I think I’ll recover, B. Rachel’s been planning to conduct her seminar entirely in ballads, so I promise this won’t be the most memorable incident.”

“Wasn’t she in the ‘Nibbles at NYADA’ dining hall seminar?” Blaine asks, halfway between intrigued and confused. He hasn’t seen that one yet.

“Oh yes. She was composing songs about going vegan all weekend,” Kurt answers, shuddering slightly at the memory.

“I don’t know if I want to skip or record that seminar,” muses Blaine.

“You’re definitely not going to that seminar, mister,” Kurt says sharply but playfully. “After completely ruining mine, you’re taking me out to eat as an apology.”  
“I really am sorry, you know.”

“I’m not so humble as to not be happy that my own fiance is so caught up by my acting that he thought he needed to defend my honor, Blaine. Don’t people win Tonys for those kind of performances?”

“Just don’t forget to thank me in your future acceptance speech.”

“Impossible,” Kurt smiles, and with one last quick kiss, they set off for lunch.


	13. Late Night Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santana Lopez is the queen of blackmailing, even when she's the one against the ropes.

The whispers came simultaneously. Kurt’s was an incredulous “No!” while Blaine’s was a laughing “Oh my God!”

The boys had just come back to the loft after their traditional Thursday night date. They were later than usual, because they’d gotten a little…distracted in the movie theater bathroom. (Kurt had worn leggings and a kilt. Blaine only had so much willpower.) They had managed to open the door as quietly as was possibly for a giant, sliding hunk of metal, so they didn’t wake the sleeping girls. This turned out to be both a blessing and a curse for them.

Santana had been marathoning _The Facts of Life_ by herself on the couch so she could continue converting it into a Broadway show when Kurt and Blaine had left, and it looked like she’d fallen asleep midway through. That wasn’t the surprising part, though.

What surprised the boys was the battered stuffed bunny she had tucked under her left arm as she slept. They’d been in Santana’s section of the loft multiple times before, but they’d never seen that decrepit toy anywhere.

After their exclamations, Blaine pulled out his phone.

"Blaine! You know Santana’s going to kill you if she knows you took a photo of her right now!" Kurt hissed, trying not to giggle.

"It’ll be worth it, baby. Just imagine how much blackmail we can get out of this. Besides, she looks so adorable right now," Blaine whispered back, shifting his phone to his right hand so he could gesture toward Santana with his left.

Kurt had to admit she looked pretty cute, almost childlike. With her sleep-softened face, curled-up position, and cuddly stuffed rabbit, she could have been an entirely different person.

Blaine stepped back to get a wider angle, accidentally hitting the creaky floorboard. The loud “reeeeeeek!” made Santana shift and sit up slightly.

"Hwa?" She sat up more, rubbing her eyes with her bunny still tucked between her arm and armpit. "Jesus! When did you guys get here?"

"Just got back. Who’s your friend, Santana?" Blaine asked, snickering a little.

"Wha- oh God," she replied, dropping her bunny behind her once she realized what Blaine meant. "Not a word of this to Berry. I made fun of her enough in high school for the fucking menagerie she made Franken-schue’s monster win her, she’ll never let me live this down if she knows. And that’s Clara, if you must know," Santana finished with a superior sniff.

"I only took one or two or sixteen photos. I could be convinced to delete them for the right price, though," responded Blaine, waving his phone teasingly.

"Don’t forget that I have photos of both you with the world’s worst Afro and you and Kurt getting your mack on on the balcony, Blanderson," Santana shot back. "And I’m friends with your future in-laws on Facebook.”

"…I’ll delete mine if you delete yours," Blaine said sheepishly, half-hiding behind Kurt as if that could protect him from Santana’s wrath.

"Done. And I require Lady Porcelain’s help in sewing up some of Clara’s rips."

"Will you also delete the photos you have of me in my workout clothes if I do?"

"Not a chance, princess. I’m planning on having those enlarged for the hobbit behind you for his birthday."

Kurt spluttered, Blaine stuttered, and Santana once again came out of a battle victorious.


	14. In Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sick!Kurt fluff.

“Please just shoot me,” Kurt states as he shuffles into the loft’s living room and flumps down face first onto the couch, head on the empty armrest and legs in Blaine’s lap on the other end.

“I think that puts me firmly in the ‘bad fiance’ category, so no, not happening,” Blaine responds, rubbing Kurt’s socked feet a little while still watching his Real Housewives marathon. “But I’ll make you a snack, if you want.”

“I’ll love you forever.” Kurt rolls over and smiles at Blaine. “This sinus infection is killing me, and Rachel’s hour long homage to Great Sopranos of Our Time in the shower this morning didn’t help.”

“Is that what I heard? I was just leaving the building when I heard a lot of high-pitched noises from our floor,” Blaine responded, lifting Kurt’s legs from his lap and standing up, heading toward the kitchen.

“And you didn’t come check on me? I’m appalled, Blaine Anderson. I could have been screaming for help!” Kurt jokes, giving Blaine a look of mock anger.

“Baby, you could take out a home invader just by glaring, I had no reason to worry,” calls Blaine from the kitchen. Kurt can see him reaching into the pantry and grabbing a can of chicken noodle soup.

“Don’t forget the-”

“Extra carrots, I know, sweetheart. This isn’t the first cold I’ve nursed you through,” Blaine interrupts Kurt mid-request, dumping the can into a bowl and grabbing the already-chunked carrots out of the fridge – Blaine had cut them down the second he realized Kurt was getting sick. Once the soup’s finished heating, Blaine carefully puts the bowl on a tray and carries it back to Kurt.

“You’re perfect. Marry me?” Kurt asks once the tray’s placed on his lap.

“One step ahead of you, baby,” Blaine answers, leaning down to gently bump his nose against Kurt’s before kissing him softly. “Now eat up, the next episode’s the one where Teresa goes totally bonkers!”


	15. Wrapped In Your Rhythm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of my ongoing headcanon that Kurt always gets settled when he listens to someone's heartbeat.
> 
> (Also, look who totally called Into The Groove before it happened!)

There was no doubt in Kurt’s mind that New York was better than Lima. Anywhere where he didn’t regularly get the shit kicked out of him for being gay was a good place in his book.

However, New York could get a bit lonely at times, especially when his fiance was hundreds of miles away in Ohio, cramming for his last two finals.

 _I swear to God, once Blaine gets here, we’re not leaving the loft for a week,_ Kurt thought as he climbed the last flight of stairs back up to the apartment. He wrenched the sliding door open to see that it was empty yet again. A note from Rachel on the fridge said that she was at another late night rehearsal for _Funny Girl_ , while the conspicuous absence of Santana’s massive pile of dental dams proved that she was over at Dani’s.

After making a quick dinner, Kurt ambled his way into his section of the loft. He threw his pajamas on and dug out his laptop, opening the file of sheet music he’d been working on for his Madonna cover band - “Into the Groove” was going to sound fantastic in four-part harmony. He soon got tired of working on that arrangement, though, and shut his laptop before putting it on his nightstand, trying to roll around and find the comfiest spot on his bed.

“Ugh, nothing’s working,” he muttered to himself. “I guess I’ll resort to the big guns.” He got up and pulled a familiar (though dusty) case out from under his bed. Once he’d brushed off all the dust, he opened it and pulled out an old friend.

“Hey there, Bruce. Mind if I make a booty call?” Kurt asked his pillow jokingly, before smothering himself into its chest. “Oh God, I’m so glad no one was around to hear me say that.”

As if on cue, Kurt’s phone rang, the screen lit up with a picture of Blaine in his yellow sunglasses. He almost dropped it in his haste to answer the call.

“Hey, baby,” came Blaine’s voice over the speaker. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, B. The apartment’s so empty all the time now and I can’t help but think it’s wasted when I’m here all alone,” Kurt pouted down the line. “Well, I suppose I’m not totally alone. I’ve got Bruce,” he said after a slight pause.

“Is it weird that I’m jealous of a stuffed torso?” Blaine asked, laughing under his breath. “I’m so tired of studying for these finals but I can’t make myself stop.”

“Just think, two more exams and you’re officially a high school graduate. Then, you can move in here and I can make you cuddle me whenever I want,” Kurt laughed back. “The whole ‘lack of a heartbeat’ thing makes Bruce a little unsettling.”

“Wouldn’t it be weirder if he _did_ have a heartbeat, though? A sentient human-shaped pillow sounds like fodder for a horror movie,” responded Blaine.

If glares could travel through phone lines, Kurt’s would have burned Blaine’s eyebrows off. “Blaine Anderson, don’t you even go there. I’m probably going to have to sleep alone in a dark, drafty apartment for most of the night and you’re not going to appreciate me calling you hysterically at two-thirty am when your first final’s at eight.”

“I’m sorry, baby. You know I’d comfort you at any hour of the day, though,” Blaine apologized before saying, “God, I’d better go. I still have five more chapters of physics to study. I love you, fiance.” The kiss noise Blaine made into the phone made Kurt smile.

“I love you, too, fiance. Happy studying!” Kurt chirped before hanging up. He snuggled down into Bruce and was just about to start a nice nap when his phone vibrated with a text message from Blaine.

**I know it’s not quite the same, but play this message while your phone’s under Bruce, okay? Love you.**

Kurt opened the sound file Blaine had attached and shoved his phone under Bruce dutifully, curling back up on top of its chest. For a minute, he couldn’t hear anything, but then the steady _thu-thump, thu-thump_ of Blaine’s heartbeat came loud and clear over Kurt’s phone speaker.

 _Not good at romance, my ass,_ was Kurt’s last coherent thought before drifting off into the best sleep he’d had all week. __


	16. No Mere Flirtation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this before I wrote my actual wedding fic, so it's not technically in my canon but I think it's still hella cute.

The hardest part of planning their wedding was, unsurprisingly, finding which song they’d have their first dance to.

Kurt had been wracking his brains for weeks, listening to every song that could even _remotely_ be considered romantic on his iPod multiple times over. He listened to the lyrics, to the possible connotations of the lyrics, to the beat, to the key (because anything weird would make their band hate them forever), to everything. He might have spent less time deciphering songs when he was actually getting graded on it at NYADA.

Then one day, it clicked. He and Blaine had been walking home from a lunch date in Central Park, trying to cross the street in front of their apartment with a million other pedestrians, and suddenly the perfect song popped into Kurt’s brain.

“Oh my God. Blaine! I figured out what song we’re dancing to!” he exclaimed, tugging on the arm Blaine had linked in his own and trying to rush into the building and up the three flights of stairs to their shared apartment. Since they’d moved into their own place a few months ago, he didn’t have to worry about interrupting Rachel doing yet another long, detailed vocal exercise or Santana ranting in Spanglish to Dani about that day’s most annoying customer at the diner.

“Baby, slow down, oh my God!” Blaine responded once they got upstairs – he’d been too out of breath from Kurt plowing through pedestrians to speak any earlier. “If you dislocate my shoulder, we can’t dance to anything.”

“I’m sorry, B, I just- I finally figured out our perfect wedding song!” Kurt squealed, unlinking his arm from Blaine’s and happy dancing slightly in place.

Blaine leaned up and kissed Kurt on the nose. “You’re lucky you’re adorable as well as the strongest man alive. Now come on, tell me what song it is!”

“Why should I tell you when we can kill two birds with one stone and dance to it as well?” Kurt asked playfully, wandering over to their iPod dock in the tiny living room and calling up the song he wanted. As the violins started playing, Blaine walked over to Kurt.

“Excuse me. Can I have this dance?” Blaine asked, holding out his hand.

“Yes. Yes, you may,” responded Kurt, taking Blaine’s hand and letting him lead so he could sing along softly. Once he got to the chorus, Blaine harmonized along with him.

_Thousands of people  
Way down below  
Wandering to and fro  
Tireless people  
No time to lose  
Crowding the avenues and parks  
On their marks  
Racing fast; quite a cast  
Millions of people, pick any two  
They could be just like  
You and me used to be  
Way back when, strangers, then -_

_I turned the corner  
And there you stood  
Your smile like home to me  
Your heart familiar  
No use pretending, not that I could  
I turned the corner when I met you_

Kurt dropped out of the song, wanting to hear Blaine’s voice crooning solo in his ear for a little while before the counterpoint harmony at the end.

_I turned the corner  
Stopped on a dime  
Like I remembered someone  
Long forgotten  
No mere flirtation, no marking time  
I turned the corner when I met you  
When I met you_

_Was our encounter planned  
Destiny’s guiding hand?  
Fortune or fate, it’s grand  
The way you make me feel_

_All of the past erased  
Glorious future faced  
Now that my life you’ve graced  
I’ll never be the same  
I turned the corner  
Feet on the ground  
My spirit soared as you appeared before me!  
I wasn’t looking, look what I found_

_I turned the corner when I met you  
When I met you. _

After a moment of silence, Blaine whispered to Kurt, “Perfect choice, baby. I’m glad I’m marrying someone as smart as you.”

“One of us has to be the brains of this operation,” Kurt smirked up at Blaine, having rested his head on Blaine’s shoulder almost immediately after they started dancing. “Lord knows all the gel has to have melted a lot of your brain cells at this point.”

“Says the man who’s single-handedly destroying the ozone layer with his hairspray usage,” Blaine laughed back, still revolving their bodies in a slow dance even though Kurt’s iPod had shuffled to Lil Jon’s “Get Low.”

“Shhh. No talking. Just kissing,” pouted Kurt, knowing he’d lost that battle.

Blaine smirked quickly before planting a thorough kiss on Kurt’s lips. “Should we practice that part of the wedding, too?” he queried.

“With pleasure,” replied Kurt, leaning up to seal their lips together again.


	17. Spooks and Dweebs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween fic!

Kurt was slowly losing his mind. He and Blaine had been in Halloween City for over two hours now and they were still no closer to finding costume ideas, because Blaine’s natural exuberance went on overdrive whenever he celebrated a holiday.

“Oooooh, Kurt, what about this one?” he heard Blaine ask delightedly from the “Couples Costumes” corner. Kurt wandered over from the “Historical” section to look and immediately wished he hadn’t.

“Blaine. That’s a plug and socket costume. As in we would literally be saying who tops and who bottoms for the _entirety of Bushwick to see,_ ” Kurt said, his tone intensifying on the last few words. They had decided to stay in and hand out candy for the children in their building, but that didn’t mean Kurt was willing to wear something tacky and/or inappropriate.

“…Right. I kind of didn’t think about that,” replied Blaine, a blush coloring his cheeks as he ran his hand over his hair sheepishly. “I got caught up in how many electricity puns I’d be able to make about you if we wore these.”

“Don’t even-” Kurt starts, but then Blaine barrels on with his train of thought.

“Like ‘You’re _shockingly_ cute,’ or ‘Zap me with your love, baby,’ or-” Kurt clapped a hand over Blaine’s mouth.

“B. Darling. If you keep making those terrible jokes my brain is literally going to melt out of my ears, and I can’t in good conscience make the décor of this place any worse,” he joked, smiling exasperatedly at Blaine. “Now, did you get any good ideas yet?”

“Not since you shot down my Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm idea,” Blaine pouted slightly.

“I am not wearing a loincloth in forty degree weather, regardless of whether we’ll be indoors or not, Blaine,” Kurt shot back. “Plus none of the kids will even get that, _The Flintstones_ hasn’t been on for years now. And you vetoed my Edward and Jacob idea!”

“Because without Rachel around to be Bella that’ll just look weird, baby,” replied Blaine. “Also, if you don’t want to be in a loincloth in forty degree weather, then why would I want to be shirtless in it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because you know getting to stare at you shirtless will make up for undoubtedly having bratty children try to steal all of our candy all night?” Kurt asked in return, widening his eyes and pouting his lips a little.

“Nice try, baby, but no,” Blaine responded, leaning up to give Kurt a quick peck on the lips before taking his arm and walking them down the next aisle.

“Spoilsport,” Kurt jokingly muttered before turning his attention to the racks of costumes surrounding them. They wandered a few of the aisles before Kurt had a brainwave.  
“I’ve got it!” he yelled, stopping and clapping his hands in excitement.

“What, you want us to be Freddy and Jason?” Blaine asked confusedly. Kurt looked around them and noticed he’d stopped them in the middle of the “Horror Icons” aisle. He quickly ran into the “Superhero” aisle nearby before he could get too freaked out and proceeded to explain.

“No, Blaine, we can be princes! You know I’ve always considered you my Prince Charming, and since we’re going to Disney World over spring break, we can use them again,” said Kurt, giving Blaine one of his rare toothy smiles.

“I like it!” Blaine replied, smiling back at Kurt. “It’s cute and neither of us will freeze off any important body parts. Now did you decide which princes we would be?”

“You’d be Prince Eric, of course, and I think I’d like to be Flynn Rider,” Kurt said, walking them over to the “Disney” section on the far side of the store. “He’s got sass.”

“Which is nothing like you, of course,” Blaine teased.

“Now, Blaine Anderson, when have I ever been sassy?” teased Kurt back. “I think you’re delirious from breathing in all the fog from the fog machine,” he continued joking, placing the back of his hand against Blaine’s forehead.

“My bad, I must have gotten you confused with this _other_ Kurt Hummel I know,” smiled Blaine. “Have you ever met him? About five-eleven, brown hair, blue eyes, incessantly teases his poor loving fiance?”

“He sounds awful. You should be glad you’re with me,” Kurt said with a matching grin, grabbing the appropriate costumes in the right sizes before turning back toward the checkout. “You know why?”

“Why?” Blaine played along.

“Because I can show you the woooorld,” Kurt sang, stopping his walk and releasing his grip on Blaine’s arm to swing his left hand out dramatically.

“That’s not even the right movie, you dork,” laughed out Blaine, reaching up to grab Kurt’s outstretched hand in his own.

“Like you care,” Kurt said, leaning down to kiss Blaine. Blaine started humming “Kiss the Girl” into Kurt’s mouth, causing both of them to break into laughter.

“C’mon, if we pay for this stuff and get home, we’ll have enough time to get through at least one Disney movie before Santana comes home and tries to make innuendos out of everything again,” Blaine said, restarting their journey toward the checkout.

“Dibs that it’s mine!” Kurt said, breaking away from Blaine to run toward the cashier before he could say anything.

Blaine’s whine of “No faiiiiir, Kurt!” was the last thing Kurt heard before the store’s PA system began playing “The Monster Mash” for the umpteenth time as he got to the first open lane.


	18. The Big Comfy Couch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's (what we thought was going to be the) NYC crew puppy pile time!

“Blaine?” Kurt called from their bedroom in the loft, marking his place in the latest edition of _Vogue_ and walking out into the living room. He could have sworn he’d heard the door open and close a few minutes ago, but no one had walked by the divider curtain yet.

“Honey? Are you home?” Kurt asked again, grabbing his Musicology textbook and heading for the living area. _I’d like to see a robber try to fight against five pounds of hardcover musical theory and analysis. Hell, I’d like to see a robber try to read five pounds of musical theory and analysis. They’d deserve my stuff then._

Kurt’s inner monologue ended when he got into the living room to see Blaine sprawled belly-up on the couch, already deep into a nap. His hair was slowly coming ungelled and his legs were akimbo against the seat and back of the couch, sure signs that he’d had a hard day. _Damn, Cassie must have been in a worse mood than usual,_ Kurt thought silently, stifling a yawn at the sight of Blaine’s sleep-relaxed face.

“Well, if you can’t beat ‘em,” Kurt said under his breath, walking around to the front of the couch to curl up next to Blaine. “God, when did I even sleep last?” he continued whispering, rolling around slightly to achieve maximum comfort. He ended up with his face buried in the shawl collar of Blaine’s soft gray cardigan and his legs tangled up with Blaine’s. Kurt vaguely noted the door opening again before he drifted off to sleep, but he couldn’t bring himself to call out a greeting to whichever girl had just arrived.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

“Kurt? Can you help me with- oh,” Rachel interrupted herself as she saw Kurt and Blaine snuggled up on the couch, fast asleep. “Awww, this is so cute!” she squealed quietly, giggling a little as she took out her phone to take a picture before the boys could wake up and get mad at her for disturbing their nap.

 _Look at my two favorite lovebirds!!_ she typed, adding several heart and star icons before posting the picture on Twitter and Instagram. Rachel figured that was the kind of cute that deserved to be shared with the world, and if it was her passive revenge for Kurt and Blaine posting a picture of her cuddled up with the Barbra doll she’d gotten off Etsy, well, who had to know?

“A nap does sound pretty nice right now,” muttered Rachel to herself. “I should probably stay well-rested if I want to be fresh-faced for make-up tests at rehearsal tomorrow, too.”

“Mmmmrachel?” came a quiet slur from the couch. Rachel looked down to see Blaine blinking confusedly at her. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Trying to convince myself to take a nap,” she responded. “You two look so comfy.”

Blaine was running a hand lazily through Kurt’s hair and down his back. “Come join us, Rach. We’re soooo comfy,” he teased, using his free hand to make a “c’mere” gesture.

“If you insist,” she smiled back, walking over to plop down and curl up in the scant space between their pelvises and knees. _Wow, Blaine’s sweater is ridiculously cuddly,_ she thought to herself before almost instantly falling asleep.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

“Oh my God, you will not _believe_ what happened today at work!” Santana bellowed as she opened the door. “So Gunther-” she caught herself, noting the pile of sleeping bodies on the couch as she got into the living room.

Well, not all sleeping anymore.

“Santana?” Kurt asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes a little. “What’s happening?”

“Apparently, you guys are having a little lady-on-gays cuddle time, and I’m trying to keep my burger from coming back for a curtain call,” she snarked, faking a projectile vomit once she was done. “Just when I think you can’t get any more twee, you pull shit like this. What’s next, matching holiday sweaters?”

She would have kept going, but Kurt interrupted her when she had to stop for air. “Santana. Shut up and get your ass over here. You know you want to,” he sing-songed, reaching his free arm out to make a grabby hand.

“Fine, but I get to be the biggest spoon,” replied Santana, kicking off her shoes and climbing over the back of the couch to snuggle up behind Blaine.

“Hey, watch it!” Kurt cried out quietly, grabbing her around the waist to keep from falling off the edge of the couch.

“You invites me into the snuggle pile, you deals with the consequences,” she said, grabbing his ass in retaliation and hauling him back onto the couch. “Now shut up so I can get my beauty rest, Hummel. I’m going out with Dani tonight and I’ve got to look fierce.”

“Oh, fuck off, Satan,” Kurt mumbled, already dozing back off against Rachel’s back, and Santana fell asleep with a satisfied smile.

(Blaine woke up first and managed to extract his cell phone from his pocket to order Chinese without disturbing anyone else. It was the proudest moment of his life.)


	19. Sleepy Snuggles

Kurt was _exhausted._

It was midway through finals week at NYADA, and he had thankfully gotten through his “Comedic Acting” monologue okay, but he had Cassie’s “Intensive Jazz for Dummies” routine tomorrow, and she had already informed them that one mistake got you an automatic C, and two got you a failing grade. He’d been practicing ever since he got home that day, and now his legs were almost audibly protesting having to ever move again.

"Kurt? Baby, it’s been five hours," called Blaine from his spot on the couch. He only had one final left, and it wasn’t until Friday, so he was rewarding himself by marathoning _Toddlers and Tiaras._ Kurt was incredibly jealous. “If you don’t stop, you literally won’t be able to move tomorrow. Come snuggle with me!”

"You’re so needy," Kurt teased as he slowly ambled his way out of their bedroom and into the living room, flopping down on top of Blaine, who let out a quiet "oof" as Kurt’s weight landed on him.

"No, I’m concerned and also a little cold, and you make a wonderful blanket," said Blaine with a grin, prompting a faux scowl from Kurt, who had pillowed his head on Blaine’s chest.

"So you’re just using me for my body heat. I see how it is!" Kurt said with a pout. "I’ll kick you out in the snow, Blaine Anderson, see if I don’t."

"Rachel would never let you kick me out, I help her run duets all the time," responded Blaine, running a hand down Kurt’s spine comfortingly. "She might like me more than you at this point." Blaine punctuated that sentence with a wink.

"I should be madder about that, but I’m too sleepy to argue anymore," Kurt said, yawning partway through his statement. "Keep rubbing my back and I could be persuaded to forgive you, though." Kurt started to curl up against Blaine’s chest, eyes closing in contentment.

"And you said I was a cuddle monster," Blaine said fondly, hearteyes in full swing and TV marathon completely forgotten.

"Because you _are,_ " huffed out Kurt, almost asleep. "You almost didn’t let me out of the bed this morning."

"Details, details. Shhhhh, baby," Blaine said quietly, moving his hand that wasn’t stroking Kurt’s back up to tangle in his hair and scratch lightly at his scalp.

"Oh, now you’re fighting dirty," Kurt slurred. A few seconds later, he was dead to the world.

Blaine smiled one last time at his worn out fiance before shifting to grip Kurt in his arms and carry him to bed.

Kurt woke up just slightly as he felt himself being lowered onto the mattress, long enough to hear Blaine whisper “I love you, baby,” and kiss him gently on the forehead before dozing off again.


	20. Three's Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-NYC fic that I'm still so sad couldn't be made canon.

“Wait, Blaine, don’t leave yet!” Rachel shrills from across the apartment, halting Blaine in his tracks.

“Rach, what-” he starts, turning to face her, but he gets interrupted by her running up to him and reaching up to his neck.

“I couldn’t let you leave without one of my special good luck cookies!” she squeals, straightening his bowtie one-handedly as she speaks. “It’s your first day at NYADA!”

“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed,” says Blaine sassily, taking the cookie she proffers. “Thank you, though, Rachel, that’s really sweet of you,” he continues, bending down to hug Rachel goodbye. “Now I’ve gotta go, Kurt’s already outside and I’m pretty sure I heard him yelling something about ‘That’s Prada!”

“I’ll find you to get lunch later today!” is the last thing Blaine hears Rachel yell as closes the door behind him.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, Blainers!” Rachel coos, skipping up to the miraculously open table Blaine found in the lounge/dining area. “How’s your day been so far?” she asks, hugging him quickly around the shoulders before sitting down on his left.

“You really had to call me that in public, Rach?” Blaine answers, whipping his head around the room to make sure Cassie July wasn’t anywhere near them. He didn’t need her to just be handed ammo.

“Oh, hush, no one’s listening to us. Did you get lost? Did you like your classes?” Rachel pulls more cookies out of her bag when she has to stop for breath. “I made you some ‘Congrats on not dying!’ cookies, too – I may have accidentally made too much batter.”

“Rachel, there are enough cookies here to stock a bakery,” Blaine says in shock, gamely reaching over for a cookie anyway. “Anyways, my first day’s been pretty good. I think I’m gonna like my voice seminar a lot- Hey, Kurt!” he interrupted himself, waving his right hand to attract his fiance’s attention. He hadn’t seen Kurt after he’d walked Blaine to his first class, and he wanted to tell Kurt about the Carter Oosterhouse lookalike in his acting class.

“Hey, B, Rach!” Kurt greets them happily as he walks up, pecking Blaine on the forehead before sitting down by his free side. “How have your days been?”

“You’re not gonna believe the guy I saw in my first class today, baby,” Blaine starts, regaling them all with his story. By the time they all have to split for their afternoon classes, Kurt’s snuggled up under Blaine’s right arm, Rachel’s clinging onto his left, and they’re all giggling wildly about the text Blaine got from Cooper about his new booking for a shingles commercial, attracting lots of weirdly attentive stares from their classmates.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey. Hey, you!” Blaine hears a whisper from his right as he’s standing at the side of the studio, waiting for his dance class to start. When he turns to look, he sees a blond boy with a cross between a mullet and a Bieber cut pointing at him.

“Me?” he whispers back, pointing at himself.

“Yeah, you. You’re Anderson, right? The freshman that hangs out with Berry and Hummel?” The kid says, looking eager for some reason.

“Yeah, I’m Blaine,” Blaine answers, sticking his hand out for a shake.

“Dude, how’d you land babes like them?” The kid keeps talking, ignoring Blaine’s outstretched hand. “I’m Kevin, by the way.”

“How’d I- what?” Blaine splutters, eyebrows contracting heavily in confusion.

“Yeah, dude, how’d you get the two most talked-about students here to date you? Especially openly like that?” Kevin asks, clearly expecting Blaine to have some deep wisdom about dating multiple people at once. Blaine notices that most of the class seems to be listening in at this point, waiting to hear any gossip they could send swirling around the school.

“Oh my God, no, no, we’re not-” Blaine tries to say, waving his hands frantically in an ‘oh God no’ kind of gesture, but then Cassie walks into the room to start class.

She apparently overheard their pre-class conversation, because she greets everyone with “Hello, losers. I hear we have God’s gift to theatre students in here. Mr. Blaine Anderson, could you please step forward?” When Blaine nervously inches his way up, she gives him a blatant once-over, making him shudder a little under the force of her glare.

“Well, aren’t you a little cutie pie? I know Schwimmer, though, so your looks can’t possibly be all that attracted her, and Hummel’s probably no different. You must be packing an eleven-inch dick under those heinous sweatpants.” Blaine chokes on his own spit as she continues, “Alright, everyone out on the floor! I’m only showing you the warm-up combo once, so you’d better be paying attention!”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

After they’re all back at the apartment for the day, Rachel and Kurt immediately ask Blaine why Cassie July found them that day to congratulate them for hiding their limps well in her class.

When he tells them (and Santana and Dani, who are both home for dinner) what the newest piece of hot NYADA gossip is, Santana has to excuse herself from the couch so she can go laugh in private. He can still hear her giggling softly as he and Kurt head off to bed that night.

“It’s not that funny, Santana!” he calls out just loud enough for her to hear on her side of the loft.

“Au contraire, Monster Cock!” she yells back. “Now keep it down when you’re having that threesome tonight, I needs my beauty sleep!”

Blaine grumbles quietly into the back of Kurt’s neck as he drifts off to sleep.


	21. Settling an Argument

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the prompt "laughter."

“You’re _so wrong,_ Blaine, of course Prince Eric is the hottest Disney prince!” Kurt yelled, voice soaring even higher in indignation.

“He looks too much like my brother, Kurt, I can’t do incest!” Blaine shot back from his spot on Kurt’s right on the couch in the loft. “And you know Prince Philip was hotter than the rest of them combined.”

“Prince Philip barely has a personality!” Kurt threw his hands up in exasperation before burying his head into them. “Oh my God, I’m marrying an idiot,” he mumbled into them, shaking his head sadly. “Only a moron cou- BLAINE!” he shrieked, body spasming in surprise.

Blaine had leaned over while Kurt couldn’t see and started tickling all down his sides. “What was that, baby? I could’ve sworn you said something about being an idiot, but my kind, loving fiance would never say _anything_ like that. I must have been hallucinating,” said Blaine teasingly, bringing his left hand up to tickle under Kurt’s armpit while moving his right onto Kurt’s stomach to get at his belly button.

Kurt was flailing, throwing his limbs out almost violently. “B-Blaineeee, stop it!” he whined, trying to roll away from Blaine but getting nowhere, especially once Blaine pushed him down onto his back and crawled on top of him. “I’m gonna wet my pants!”

“What’s the magic word, Kurt?” Blaine asked, keeping Kurt’s hips pinned between his knees as he mercilessly continued to tickle him.

“Please?” Kurt gasped, breathless from laughing so hard and hair flopping into his eyes as it broke free from his hairspray.

“No, that’s not quite it. It starts with ‘Blaine, I love you so much,’” Blaine said through his own laughter, enjoying being so carefree with the love of his life. “How about you take it from there?”

“Blaine, I love you soooo much,” Kurt giggled out, slowing his thrashing momentarily before continuing, “but you’re _wrong!_ ” Kurt squealed out the last word, and started to flail again. He actually caught Blaine off guard that time, and the force of his movements sent both of them rolling off the couch.

They landed in a reversal of their previous positions, Blaine on his back on the floor with the wind knocked out of him and Kurt triumphantly perched on his chest, knees to the ground on either side of Blaine.

“Ha!” he crowed, bending down to enact some revenge. Soon, Blaine was a writhing/laughing/crying mess beneath Kurt.

“Stop, stop, baby, stop!” Blaine called out in between fits of giggles. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was slowly gaining resemblance to a tumbleweed, which Kurt found positively adorable. “Uncle, uncle!” Blaine finally said.

“Wimp,” Kurt said with a wink. “I held out so much longer than that.”

“I know something else you can hold, then, if you’re so strong,” Blaine joked back, waggling his eyebrows ridiculously.

“Oooh,” is all Kurt can manage to get out before the sliding door is pulled open to let Santana in.

“Is this some weird gay foreplay?” she asked snarkily, taking in their mussed clothing and frizzy hair. “Because let me tell you, I’ve got some vibra-”

“THANK YOU, Santana,” Kurt cut in sternly, blushing down to the collar of his shirt. “And no, this is not ‘weird gay foreplay,’” he said, making air quotes around his last few words. “Blaine and I were resolving some differences.”

“Whatever, pretty ponies,” she called back as she walked toward her room. “But just fyi, I’ve got a ton of condoms in here because I was planning on filling your room with dick balloons one day when you weren’t home, so if you need to borrow some, feel free.”

Kurt froze on top of Blaine “Dick balloons?” he whispered, forehead furling in horror and confusion.

“I don’t even know, baby,” Blaine responded, clearly just as lost as Kurt. “How about we go marathon all of the princess movies in our room for some more in-depth analyses of the princes?” he asked, grabbing Kurt’s hips and rolling Kurt off of his stomach before sitting up and kissing him softly.

“Mmm, sounds perfect,” Kurt hummed happily. “And you’ll sing the duets with me?”

“Of course I’ll sing the duets with you,” Blaine said, scoffing lightly as though he was offended that Kurt would possibly think otherwise. “C’mon, first back to the room picks the first movie!”

“Cheater!” Kurt yelled as Blaine started standing up and running before he was even done talking.

“Catch me if you can!” Blaine cried, already halfway to the bedroom. Kurt tried to catch up with him, but he ended up tripping over their bedroom rug and accidentally tackling Blaine onto the bed.

Blaine let out an “oomph” noise. “Honey, I don’t think ‘falling for you’ is typically meant literally,” he teased.

“Oh, shut up, Anderson.” Kurt grumbled, rolling off of Blaine’s back and over to his side of the bed.

“Make me,” Blaine shot back.

The ensuing make out session broke their personal record.


	22. Nailed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes, the "Kurt nails Blaine in the balls" fic.

Kurt was walking through the living room of the loft the first time it happened. He was on his way to the kitchen and crossing in front of the couch when suddenly two arms wrapped around his waist and yanked him off his feet.

He would always deny making any weird noises, but Blaine swears that the sound he made was a cross between an angry chicken noise and the scream someone lets out when they’re on the first hill of a roller coaster.

“Blaine! What are you doing?” Kurt screeched (though he was also laughing a little) once he got his bearings back, finding himself planted sideways on Blaine’s lap on the couch.  
“I was cold,” Blaine said, no trace of remorse in his voice.

“So you couldn’t grab the blanket we leave on the couch?” asked Kurt, raising an eyebrow acerbically. “It is literally four inches away from you, B.”

“You’re so much snugglier than a blanket, though,” Blaine said, shooting Kurt his most winning smile and clinging to him even tighter. “And warmer,” he continued, rubbing the tip of his nose into Kurt’s neck.

“You’re ridiculous, Blaine,” Kurt said, melting slightly into his fiance. He was unable to resist Blaine’s smile. “Can I get up for a minute to get us more snacks, though?”

“Ugh, fine, I suppose,” huffs out Blaine, rolling his eyes in perfect drama queen style before releasing his grip around Kurt’s waist. “Come back before I freeze, though!” he calls after Kurt, faking a shiver when Kurt turns around to glare at him from the kitchen.

“You’re so needy,” said Kurt with a laugh once he came back, settling back into Blaine’s lap with their bowl of popcorn and reaching for the remote.

“Needy for your lovin’, baby,” Blaine said cheesily, winking at Kurt.

Kurt grabbed the throw pillow behind him and smacked Blaine with it thoroughly before focusing his attention on the episode of _Here Comes Honey Boo Boo_ he’d flipped to.  
______________________________________________

Unfortunately for Kurt, the sneak attack snuggles didn’t stop there. Blaine was like some sort of ninja cuddle master, and he never missed an opportunity to pull Kurt into his lap and nuzzle into him like an overgrown cat. There was one particularly memorable instance where Kurt had almost slipped over his own feet when Blaine had grabbed him after a shower that made him start fearing for his safety a bit.

Before he had to dig out Bruce as a substitute snuggler for Blaine, though, Blaine learned his lesson about startling his fiance with cuddles.

“Elliott! Hey, c’mon in!” Kurt said, standing up from Blaine’s lap in welcome after Elliott yanked the loft door open for Pamela Lansbury-plus-Blaine movie night. He could hear Blaine let out a little whine below him, but chose to ignore it.

“Yeah, Starchild, get your ass in here so we can get this thing started already! I’ve been dying to see this movie for weeks now!” Santana called from her spot on the loveseat with Dani. They were so interlocked that Kurt was having trouble figuring out whose legs were whose, and he was mentally making a note to figure out where he’d left the stain remover, just in case.

Kurt was starting to take a step toward the door to help Elliott with the cartons of Chinese he’d brought with him when he felt himself tilting back toward Blaine unexpectedly. He flailed as he landed in Blaine’s lap, accidentally nailing him in the balls with his elbow.

“Oh- oh my God,” Blaine whined, curling tightly around Kurt, who was half in Blaine’s lap and half on the couch armrest, legs askew and almost hitting Rachel at her spot on the floor.

“Blaine! I’m so sorry!” Kurt said hurriedly, shifting to sit entirely on the armrest as Santana and Dani hooted with laughter and Elliott stared on from the kitchen, unconsciously shifting one hand over his crotch in sympathy.

“Do you need any ice?” Rachel fretted, turning to look at Blaine with worry.

“No, Rach, I’ll be okay,” Blaine huffed, slowly catching his breath again and straightening back to a sitting position.

“I think Porcelain needs to kiss it better,” Santana catcalled, wiping her eyes as she finally finished laughing.

“Oooooh, can I watch?” Dani asked, prompting everyone in the loft to stare at her questioningly. “What? They’re hot,” she said, shrugging.

“Yeah, but I’m hotter,” Santana replied, capturing Dani’s lips in a kiss that made Kurt blush and Rachel cover her eyes.

“Okay, anyways,” Kurt said after a moment, turning his attention back to Blaine. “Are you okay, B? Really.”

Blaine reached up to smooth the worry lines out of Kurt’s forehead. “I’m fine, baby, I promise. I guess I should maybe start asking you for snuggles instead of just pouncing on you if I ever want to father children, though,” he said, chagrin evident in his tone.

“Would you like to start now?” Kurt asked, winking at Blaine and opening his arms a little. It really was cold in the apartment without Blaine’s space heater-like tendencies nearby.

“Kurt Hummel, will you…snuggle me?” Blaine replied, not waiting for Kurt to answer before pulling him into his arms and settling him carefully across his lap.

“Of course,” Kurt said, curling up and putting his head on his favorite spot between Blaine’s neck and shoulder. He reached for the couch blanket and tucked that over them as well.

Santana’s fake retching was drowned out only by Rachel turning up the snarls of the MGM lion as she finally played the DVD.


	23. You're My Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These are the best name-related puns I've ever come up with, you guys.

Kurt leaned forward from his spot sitting against his headboard yet again, triple-checking that the door to his room was shut. He knew his dad was downstairs absorbed in the football game, Carole was still at work, Finn was on a date with Rachel, and Blaine wouldn’t dare enter a room without knocking first once he saw that the door was closed. That meant it was totally safe for him to grab the secret box out from under his bed.

“Hello there, Fraulein,” he cooed to the contents, opening the lid and pulling out his raggedy old stuffed cat. “You’ll have to be my cuddle partner until Blaine shows up. That okay?”

He made the cat nod and then nuzzled it to his face quickly.

“Good,” Kurt said, tucking his companion securely under his left arm and settling down to focus on the rerun of _The Bachelorette_ that was airing before the new episode was due to come on. “So what do you think about the contestants this- ahh!”

Kurt’s mindless chatter was interrupted by his door opening abruptly and his boyfriend almost flying into the room.

“Hey, baby, how’s- what’s that?” Blaine started to greet him, but changed topics after he looked down at Kurt’s bed.

“Nothing, it’s nothing!” Kurt said frantically, trying to hide his buddy under his pillows, but Blaine’s reflexes were quicker than his.

“Awww, you still have a stuffed animal, Kurt? What’s his name?” Blaine asked, snuggling the cat to his chest happily and looking for all the world like an exceptionally tall seven-year-old.

“ _Her_ name is Fraulein Purr-ia, if you must know,” Kurt sniffed, embarrassed at being caught with his childhood comforter. He could feel his face flushing and tried to duck his head into his far shoulder a bit.

Blaine cooed wordlessly before saying “That’s adorable, baby. I should’ve known she’d be named after a _Sound of Music_ character. Now stop hiding, you’re gonna miss the beginning of the episode!”

“B, you just caught me snuggling my stuffed cat like a six-year-old. I’m going to go dig myself a hole in the backyard and die, not watch Tamyra try to decide between Steven, Jake, and Bradley,” Kurt said, turning his head to glance more in Blaine’s direction but still leaving it hanging low.

“First of all, there will be no dying in a hole in your backyard for you, thanks. Second, I still have my old stuffed animal, too, Kurt. No shame, only snuggles! C’mon,” Blaine cajoled, sitting next to Kurt on the bed and dragging him in for a cuddle. “Everyone has one, baby.”

“You really still have yours?” Kurt asked, finally lifting his head up all the way.

“Yes. He’s a puppy, and his name is Frank Sinat-ruff,” Blaine said, leaning in to kiss his boyfriend. “I can show him to you next time you come over, if you’d like.”

“Fine, you win this time, Anderson. But you’d better show me your dog the next time I come over! Where do you even hide him?” Kurt snuggled in closer to Blaine as he talked, giving him his _I mean business_ stare and grabbing the Fraulein back out of Blaine’s hands.

“He’s on the top shelf of my closet, behind my record collection. It felt fitting,” Blaine said, turning his attention to the television as the theme music began to play. “Shhh, it’s starting!”

“I wasn’t even-” Kurt began.

“Shh!” Blaine cut him off, apparently eager to catch every last detail of this episode. “I have to make sure that she picks Jake. He’s the least douche-y of them all.”

“Blaine, if you ignore me for _The Bachelorette,_ I’m going to steal Frank and bury him in the hole in my backyard,” Kurt said, half-peeved and half-joking.

“You know I love you the most, baby,” Blaine said in return, turning to kiss Kurt on the forehead. “But this is important!”

Kurt rolled his eyes and rested his head on his ridiculous boyfriend’s shoulder, absentmindedly petting Fraulein Purr-ia as he got absorbed by the show.


	24. Holiday Hallucinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I attached this to a drawing of animateglee's on Tumblr, but you'll get the idea even without the image.

"Dammit," Kurt muttered, stamping his feet to keep them warm. He kept missing the keyhole to the loft door, and it was colder than ever before and windy to boot. "C’mon c’mon c’mon- there!"

He triumphantly slid the door open, putting his magazines down on the side table before pumping his fist slightly in victory. “Oh God, the indoors. I missed you so much, don’t ever let me leave you aga- whoa!” he exclaimed mid-sentence, looking up from the table and into the living room.

"Surprise!" said Blaine, smiling big enough for three people. "I’m here for Christmas!" He gestured to his outfit, a festive red cardigan, green button-up, and white bowtie with little reindeer. The real eye-catcher, though, was the giant bow he’d wrapped around his torso.

Blaine’s brows furrowed when Kurt didn’t respond. “Kurt? Baby? Hello?”

"I have hypothermia and now I’m hallucinating," Kurt said, in a daze. "Okay, this really wasn’t how I was expecting the holidays to go."

"Baby, I’m really here, I promise," Blaine said, hurriedly walking over to Kurt and starting to divest him of his outer layers. "I know I told you I wasn’t gonna be able to make it, but that was so I could surprise you!"

"Holy shit, it’s touching me," said Kurt, freaking out a little. "I’ve gone insane, oh my God. I’ve become Russell Crowe in _A Beautiful Mind,_ what do I- mmph!”

Blaine cut off Kurt’s panicked rambling with a kiss. “Kurt. You’re not schizophrenic, calm down. How about we make some hot tea and cuddle on the couch? I think you need some body heat,” Blaine winked at that.

"Okay, hallucination-Blaine, whatever you say. But if you turn into a puppet suddenly, don’t blame me for trying to throw you out the window," Kurt joked, finally convinced that his fiance was actually there.

"One time, that was _one time,_ ” Blaine said exasperatedly as he wandered over to the kitchen.

"Once was enough!" Kurt said, going to sit on the couch.

"See if I let you have any hot chocolate.”

"Please, one sad look from me and you’d make me a hot chocolate lake."

"Only because you’d do the same for me," Blaine said, turning away from the stove for a second to smile at Kurt.

"Only because I’d do the same for you," Kurt echoed, getting up and walking to Blaine to give him a quick kiss on the forehead.


	25. A Little Dream of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Total crack.

“Aaaand…done!” Blaine grunted, setting down his last box of things in his and Kurt’s ( _his and Kurt’s!_ ) bedroom in the loft. “God, how do bow ties even weigh that much?” he asked somewhat rhetorically, rubbing the sore spot on the small of his back.

“When you pack hundreds – literally hundreds – of them into one box, B, they pile up a bit,” Kurt smirked from his spot on their bed. “C’mere,” he said after Blaine pouted at him, “I’ll rub your back for you.”

“You’re an angel,” Blaine said, flumping facefirst onto the bed and scooting up to put his head on his pillow. “Never, ever leave me."

“I don’t plan on it, honey,” Kurt said, shifting himself so he was straddling Blaine’s legs. “Now, let’s remove this pesky shirt, shall we?”

Blaine felt Kurt untuck his polo from his pants and did his best to lift his torso upwards without dislodging his fiance. “Mmmm, planning to seduce me?” he teased once he was topless, reveling in his happiness at being in New York with Kurt (and Santana and Rachel, he loved them too) and in his excitement for the future.

“If you play your cards right,” Kurt teased back, starting to massage over Blaine’s shoulders. His hands were chilly, but Blaine was overwarm from moving and the coolness felt good against his skin.

Blaine moaned wordlessly as Kurt worked the kinks out of his shoulders and moved down his back. “Baby, you are magic, I swear. Is there anything you want? A pony? A lifetime supply of McQueen scarves? I’ll make it happen,” he babbled, muscles loosening and tiredness setting in, causing him to close his eyes. He felt Kurt stop massaging him for a second and couldn’t hold back a whine.

“Shh, B, I’m just grabbing something from the drawer,” Kurt said. Blaine heard their nightstand drawer pull open and Kurt’s fingers scrabble through the inside, looking for something. A bottle top clicked open and its contents glooped noisily into Kurt’s hand.

“I think I like where this is going,” Blaine said, feeling his hormones crest.

“Oh, I bet you do,” Kurt responded, and the flirty tone he used was going to kill Blaine someday if he wasn’t careful.

Blaine felt something sticky being applied to his back and scrunched up his forehead in confusion. “Kurt, what’s on my back? That doesn’t feel like oil.”

“That’s because it’s not,” Kurt said, and his tone wasn’t flirty anymore. In fact, Blaine would go so far as to call it creepy. “You said you never wanted me to leave your side, and this will ensure I don’t have to.”

“Kurt, baby, _what did you put on my back?_ ” Blaine asked, eyes flying open as he tried to keep the panic out of his voice. He didn’t want to spook Kurt into doing something rash.

“Superglue!” Kurt giggled, and the innocence of that laugh compared with his actions made the hairs on the back of Blaine’s neck stand on end. “Now you really are stuck with me!” Kurt continued to laugh, apparently impossibly amused by his own joke.

“Baby, please, stand up and- oh God!” Blaine cut himself off, feeling the weight of Kurt’s torso press against his back. “Oh God, this is going to be so hard to explain at the emergency room. And to Santana.”

“Oh, this is just the beginning, B!” Kurt chirped, nuzzling his face contentedly into the back of Blaine’s neck. “I have thumbtacks, tape, and a staple gun in that drawer as well. They’re never separating us again!”

Kurt’s maniacal chuckles faded as Blaine finally awoke from his dream. It was 12:30 at night, according to the clock on his and Kurt’s nightstand, and Kurt was clinging koala-style to Blaine’s back, holding onto him fiercely.

“Oh my God, it was a dream,” Blaine gasped to himself, working a hand free of Kurt’s death grip to run it through his curls. “Holy shit.” Normally, Blaine would _never_ consider cursing, but this was an extenuating circumstance.

“Mmmmblaine?” Kurt questioned, smacking his lips together as he woke. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, baby. Go back to sleep,” Blaine said, turning around in Kurt’s arms so they could be face to face.

“Kay,” Kurt said, placated and childlike, and burrowed his head down to snuggle into his favorite spot on Blaine’s chest.

Blaine kissed Kurt’s hair and petted slowly down his back in time with his breaths, feeling his heart rate calm as he did. “Love you,” he whispered, closing his eyes and relaxing back into his pillows.

He understood Kurt’s grunt to be an “I love you, too,” and fell back asleep. The ensuing dream about meeting and singing with Katy Perry was much more pleasant.


	26. Like Two Birds of a Feather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas-y wintery fic!

“Just hear those sleigh bells jingling, ring-ting-tingling too,” Blaine sang cheerfully. He and Kurt were ambling through Central Park, enjoying their first Christmas Eve together in New York. “C’mon, it’s lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you.” He turned to Kurt and gave him a winning smile that Kurt wasn’t willing to return.

“Lovely weather to stay inside for three months straight, more like,” Kurt grumbled, shivering. He wrapped his free arm around himself, unwilling to stop holding hands with Blaine even for hypothermia.

“Baby, how are you cold right now? You’re in long sleeves, a coat, a hat, gloves, and a very jaunty scarf, if I do say so myself,” Blaine said, shifting his grip on Kurt from his hand to his waist.

“I already thanked you for the early Christmas present, B, you don’t have to fish for compliments,” Kurt said with some snark, but he nuzzled into his fiance all the same. “And you know I get cold easily! I have thin skin. I don’t understand how you manage,” he continued, gesturing to Blaine and his distinct lack of bundling. He was clad only in a peacoat and scarf (and of course pants and shoes, Kurt wasn’t about to leave the loft with a flasher).

“I’m hot blooded,” Blaine joked. He let loose with an over-the-top growl that made Kurt bust into giggles and smack Blaine in the chest.

“If you ever want to get laid again, you won’t say that anymore,” Kurt said, still laughing. “Especially if Santana or Dani’s around to hear.”

“Fine, spoilsport,” Blaine said, giving Kurt his best pouty look.

“Ugh, you know I can’t resist that face, B,” Kurt said. He kissed Blaine quickly on his protruding lower lip, hoping to make him stop. Those wounded-looking eyes were lethal.

“That’s exactly why I made it!” Blaine chirped, already placated. “Now, did I hear that one Kurt Hummel might need some warming up?”

“Perhaps,” Kurt allowed. “What do you plan on doing about it?”

“Well, for starters, I thought I’d do _this,_ ” Blaine said as he stopped their walking. He faced Kurt and pulled him close by the ends of his navy blue scarf, looping them around his own neck before doing the same to Kurt with his own violet plaid. “Any better yet?” He asked, almost nose to nose with his fiance.

“I might be a little less cold,” Kurt said, playing along. “My back side’s still freezing, though.”

“Complaints, complaints,” Blaine chided teasingly. “I can do something about that, I think.” He dropped his hands into the back pockets of Kurt’s tight gray jeans, pulling him impossibly closer as he gently massaged Kurt’s ass.

Kurt snuggled shamelessly into Blaine’s neck and brought his hands up to wrap around his shoulders. “Mmmm, that’s nice,” he said, nearly purring.

“Feeling hotter?” Blaine asked. Kurt had his eyes shut and couldn’t see Blaine’s face, but he was willing to bet good money that Blaine winked when he said that. He felt a kiss press into his hat.

“You’re a good space heater, Blaine,” Kurt said. He leaned up to give Blaine a proper kiss on the lips. “There, now my lips are warm, too.”

“But your nose is _freezing_ , Kurt, oh my God,” Blaine said, pulling his head away just slightly. He rubbed his nose against Kurt’s once he was in the right position.

“You stopped kissing me for real just to Eskimo kiss me?” Kurt asked. He returned Blaine’s earlier pouty look with his own, widening his eyes for good measure. “No fair, Anderson.”

“And you said my pouty face is irresistible,” Blaine said with a shake of his head. “As you wish, baby.”

Kurt melted into Blaine as they started to kiss again. “Now I want to go home and watch _The Princess Bride,_ ” he said once they had to break for air.

“We have to watch a Christmas movie, Kurt! It’s Christmas Eve!” Blaine sounded so indignant that Kurt simply had to kiss him one last time.

“Fine, but we’re not watching _Elf_ again,” Kurt said after he broke the kiss. “If I have to listen to Will Ferrell’s overexcited prattle one more time, I’m going to shank myself with a candy cane.”

“I might have to break up with you for saying that, baby,” Blaine said. He almost sounded serious, but Kurt saw him holding in a smile. “ _Elf_ is possibly the best Christmas movie of all time.”

“Wrong. That would be _White Christmas,_ ” Kurt said, breaking free of Blaine’s hold to grab his hand again and start heading for the subway back to Bushwick. “And we’re going to sing along with it, of course.”

“Of course,” Blaine echoed. “How could we not?”

“Statements like that are how I know we’re soulmates, B.”

“I’d expect nothing less, baby.”

Kurt hummed "Snow" under his breath the whole way home, Blaine smiling contentedly beside him as he did.


	27. Spring Cleaning

“Blaine? Honey, where are you?” Kurt called out, stretching onto his tiptoes to try to dust the tops of the kitchen cabinets in the loft. “I could use some help!” He knew his pint-size fiance wouldn’t be much help for reaching the tall shelves, but he could at least spot Kurt as he climbed a chair to do it himself.

When Blaine didn’t respond, Kurt set down his duster and started to walk toward their bedroom. He had sent Blaine there almost fifteen minutes ago to change the sheets – had he accidentally tripped and concussed himself? Was he currently being smothered to death?

Kurt discovered that the answer was far more mundane than that as he pushed the curtain aside to enter their room. Blaine was actually starfish-sprawled face down on their unmade bed, nose buried in the pile of their clean, worn-to-perfection sheets and a look of utter contentment on his face.

“Really, B?” Kurt asked. He crossed his arms over his chest, jutted his hip out, and raised an eyebrow, the picture of judging acerbity. “You’re just getting the sheets all greasy again with your rock-solid hairdo.”

“Shhh,” Blaine said, unaffected by Kurt’s (admittedly teasing) attitude. “Warm sheets. Smell good. Come snuggle.” Blaine rolled onto his side and reached out for Kurt to join him, though he still left his head tilted toward the flowery scent of their cream-colored bedding.

“You’ve probably leached all the heat out of them by now,” Kurt said, exasperated. He still went over to the bed and dropped down on his butt next to Blaine, catching his own whiff of the sheets as he did. “Mmm, these do smell nice, though.”

“Yes, now come here,” Blaine said. He pushed against Kurt’s chest until he toppled over onto his back with a yelp. “Perfect.” Blaine took that opportunity to snuggle into Kurt’s collarbones and wrap as much of the sheets as he could around them.

“If you’re going to force me to take time out of my meticulously planned spring cleaning schedule to snuggle, I have one demand,” Kurt said. When Blaine gave him an encouraging grunt, he continued, “I get to be the little spoon!”

Kurt pushed at Blaine’s torso until he rolled just far enough away that Kurt could roll onto his left side. The second Kurt was settled, Blaine cuddled up tight behind him, lips brushing against the back of Kurt’s neck in an almost-kiss.

“I don’t see how I’m losing out in this bargain, baby,” Blaine said, not stifling a laugh very well. “I still have my gorgeous fiance and a pile of soft, clean sheets to cuddle in.”

“Shhh. Warm sheets. Smell good. Come snuggle,” Kurt parroted lazily back to Blaine. Blaine’s shoulders shook with nearly silent laughter for a moment at that. By the time he recovered, Kurt was already napping hard and snoring lightly the way he did when he was truly exhausted.

“I knew your idea of Spring Cleaning-slash-Cramming for Finals week would get to you in the end,” Blaine whispered. He couldn’t keep a smile off his face as he got up and pulled their big knit blanket out of the trunk below the bed. Blaine shook it out and over Kurt before climbing back onto the bed and spooning again, shortly falling into a nap of his own.


	28. Distracted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: kurt is mr. anderson's little secret at the office

“Kurt, could I see you in my office for a moment?” Blaine called, poking only his upper body out of his doorway once he saw the familiar shadow cross by his shaded office window.

“Of course, Mr. Anderson,” Kurt answered. He left his spot at the receptionist’s station to enter Blaine’s private office, closing the door behind him as he did. Blaine had already sat back down behind his desk, prompting Kurt to sit down across from him. “What’s up?”

“What’s up is that you’ve been distracting me at work all week, and I _know_ it’s on purpose, Kurt,” Blaine said, voice going low and dark. “Those pictures you sent me yesterday…” he trailed off, incapable of continuing.

“But sir, I thought you liked knowing what I get up to while you’re slaving away all day at the office,” Kurt said innocently. “Didn’t they look nice?”

Blaine had to stifle a groan into his fist. “’Nice’ isn’t really the word I’d use to describe those photos, baby.”

“You wouldn’t?” Kurt said, batting his eyes and pouting his lips and looking sinfully, deliciously young. “I thought they captured all your favorite features, though.”

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut as he remembered the photos Kurt had sent of him in only his tiny, tight briefs with the caption _I just don’t know what to wear today._ His eyes had been the same shade of baby blue as his underwear, and Blaine had almost had to excuse himself from an important meeting to go take care of some more urgent business in the bathroom, disappointed that it was one of Kurt’s days off.

“Be that as it may, you can’t just go around sending me provocative pictures, Kurt!” Blaine scolded as he shook off the last of that memory. “What if one of my clients had seen that message come in, hm? Do you want me to lose my job?”

“It’s not illegal, Blaine, calm down!” Kurt responded. “I just wanted to let you know how much I really, really missed you.” He stood up and made his way over to Blaine, pulling his desk chair out a little and spinning Blaine to face him before settling down into his lap. Blaine couldn’t resist planting a quick kiss to Kurt’s hair once he snuggled his head into Blaine’s neck.

“I really, really missed you, too, sweetheart,” Blaine said. “Especially when I had to go take care of myself in the bathroom without the assistance of your pretty little mouth.” He felt Kurt’s breathing hitch at that remark.

“Blaine,” he sighed, breath warm against the sensitive skin of Blaine’s neck.

“Are you upset, baby?” Blaine teased, running his hands up and down Kurt’s sides slowly, trying to caress every reachable inch of his body. “Would you rather I had waited for you to come in today so I could fuck that gorgeous mouth of yours and have you on your knees for me?”

Kurt whimpered brokenly, lifting his head to face Blaine squarely. “Yes, please, Blaine-”

“Shhh, sweetheart,” Blaine interrupted. He cut off Kurt’s continual quiet whines with a kiss. “We can’t have everyone knowing what we’re up to in here, can we? It would be so…improper.”

“But _Blaine,_ ” Kurt cried out quietly.

“I said _shh,_ Kurt,” Blaine said, leaving no room for argument. “But I could make you a deal, if you’d like.” He reached down to cup Kurt’s ass and squeeze it gently as an enticement.

“Anything, sir, anything,” Kurt said. Blaine could tell he was seconds away from writhing himself to completion on his lap.

“If you promise to be a good boy and wait for me at home without sending me any more naughty pictures, I’ll make sure you come at least twice tonight,” Blaine started, smiling with pleasure when Kurt had to hide a whine in his neck. “But if you try to tease me again, baby, then I’m going to be forced to put you over my knee.”

“No, Blaine, I’ll be good, I promise!” Kurt said, gasping a little.

“Then I’ll see you after my meeting tonight,” Blaine said. He pushed Kurt to stand, following him up to kiss him sweetly on the lips. “I love you, Kurt, baby.”

“I love you, too, Mr. Anderson,” Kurt said happily. His face was flushed a light pink and he had to take off his blazer and hold it demurely over his crotch, but the unobservant eye wouldn’t notice anything suspicious about him, in Blaine’s opinion.

Of course, the unobservant eye wasn’t the first thing to notice them. “Kurt!” Santana screeched through the door. “You were supposed to be back in the studio ten minutes ago so we could finish recording! Quit playing your weird sex games with Peter Twink-lage here and get your ass upstairs!”

“I’ll be right there, Satan!” Kurt yelled back. He turned and gave Blaine an apologetic look. “Continue this later tonight?”

“Of course,” Blaine said, leaning up to give Kurt another kiss for good measure. “Have fun recording Pamela Lansbury’s greatest hits!”

“Have fun signing the next Beyonce,” Kurt responded as he left the room.

 _Thank God for Kurt’s never-ending stash of roleplay ideas,_ Blaine thought to himself before delving back into his work.


	29. Heatwave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by one of dinojay's drawings on Tumblr.

“Oh my God, kill me,” Blaine says, sprawled out on his belly like a starfish on the couch. “It’s so _hot._ ”

“I’m not doing that for two reasons,” Kurt answers him from his spot face-up on the somewhat-cooler wood floor. “I don’t want you dead, for one, and also that would require far too much moving.”

“But Kuuuurt,” Blaine whines. He turns his head to stare at Kurt pleadingly.

“No,” Kurt says, limply lifting an arm and pointing at Blaine reprovingly.

“No one would even see the bloodstains against your outfit!” Blaine argues, and Kurt lets out a snort of laughter. He’s in his red and white workout outfit because it’s the closest he can get to being naked without hearing infinite naughty comments from Santana. As it stands, he already heard a joke about candy-cane shorts and how Blaine should celebrate Christmas in July before she left for work earlier.

“It’s official, the heat’s actually melted your brain,” Kurt responds. “I always thought it would be the hair gel, though.”

“Hey!” Blaine says petulantly. He flops an arm down and smacks vaguely at Kurt’s bent knees. “No knocking the gel, baby. Imagine what my hair would look like in this humidity without it.”

“You look cute gel-less, B,” Kurt says, reaching for Blaine’s hand and holding it for a moment. “Plus I’m sure the combination of sweat and glue you’ve got going right now might only come out fully if we shave your head.”

Blaine gasps in horror. “You take that back!”

“Blaine, your head literally looks like melted tar right now,” Kurt tells him. “I’m kind of afraid you’re going to end up stuck to the couch.”

“Why am I marrying someone so mean?” Blaine whines jokingly. “I might have to ask for that ring back.”

“Fat chance, Anderson,” Kurt says, laughing. “The only reason you’d get this ring back is because you’d be putting my wedding ring on later. But I tell you what,” he rolls onto his side to properly face Blaine, “if you go shower out that pile of goop on your head, I’ll go make us some lemonade and find a Project Runway marathon to watch.”

“Make it strawberry lemonade and you’ve got yourself a deal,” Blaine says.

“Done,” Kurt replies, and Blaine pushes himself off the couch and onto his knees, kissing Kurt quickly before standing up and ambling to the shower.  
________________________________________________

“Wow, that shower cooled me down for a solid four seconds,” Blaine says as he walks back out to the living room. Kurt’s seated on the couch, two glasses of bright pink lemonade on the coffee table in front of him.

“But your hair looks much better,” Kurt says, turning slightly to look at Blaine, who’s now appareled in a tight black tank top and tiny green shorts. “Now c’mere, your lemonade’s melting.”

“I love you,” Blaine says, settling down near Kurt on the couch and reaching for his glass. He slugs half of it back in one sitting before letting out a refreshed “Aaah.”

“I never thought I’d see the day where your table manners would fail you,” Kurt teases before taking a sip of his own drink. “What would your mother say if she could see you now?”

“She’d probably be amazed that I held out so long, seeing as Cooper gave up on his prep school manners years ago,” Blaine says. “You should see him eat spaghetti, it looks like a crime scene afterwards.”

“I’ll pass,” Kurt says with a shudder. They watch in amiable silence for a few minutes before Blaine cracks.

“Nope, I can’t do it,” he says, scooting closer to Kurt and throwing his legs over Kurt’s lap. “I can’t watch TV with you and not cuddle, even if it’s a billion degrees in here.”

“You’re so needy, B,” Kurt says, but he still wraps his arm around Blaine’s shoulders. “You’re going to give me heatstroke.”

“I can also give you mouth-to-mouth,” Blaine says, winking. Kurt giggles momentarily before he feels Blaine’s lips against his. They make out lazily until Kurt’s interest is recaptured by what’s onscreen.

“It’s like that kind of blood orange,” a blonde designer is telling Tim Gunn, and Kurt lets out an exasperated huff.

“Blood orange? How _pretentious,_ ” he says disparagingly. Seconds later, a male designer echoes his thoughts, causing Blaine to let out an amused laugh.

“You really stopped making out with me to judge someone’s wording?” he asks. “I mean, while I agree with you, I can’t say it was worth interrupting that.”

“Oh, shut up, Blaine,” Kurt says, smacking Blaine’s legs softly.

“Make me,” Blaine challenges, eyes sparkling with mirth.

The moan Blaine lets out when Kurt does that thing with his tongue he knows drives Blaine wild is all the victory he needs.


	30. Chilly

“Ow ow ow ow,” Kurt says under his breath as he walks as quietly as possible into his and Blaine’s bedroom. “Note to self: wear your frickin’ gloves when it’s ten degrees out, Hummel.”

Blaine rolls over at this, and Kurt immediately shuts up so he doesn’t wake him. It’s almost one in the morning, after all, and Blaine’s got to work the breakfast shift tomorrow at the Spotlight.

 _Never again am I going to one of Isabelle’s friends’ performance art exhibitions,_ Kurt thinks as he changes into his warm flannel pajama pants and loose tank top. He’d spent the last three hours freezing to death in a large, drafty converted warehouse watching a man chew bubble gum and paint himself purple, and to top it all off, he’d had to wait twenty minutes for a bus back to Bushwick.

Kurt wiggles his toes briefly before hustling over to his nice, warm bed and nicer, warmer fiance, eager to steal all of Blaine’s body heat. He slides under the blankets quickly and rolls into Blaine’s side, pressing his nose into Blaine’s neck, his arms against Blaine’s chest, and his feet against Blaine’s shins.

His warmth lasts for all of two seconds before suddenly he feels Blaine’s knee heading for his groin. Kurt squawks and pushes himself away, flailing slightly on the edge of the bed before he feels a strong hand pulling him forward again.

“Blaine, what the hell?” Kurt asks, glaring at his blushing boyfriend.

“Kurt, you’re so cold, oh my God,” Blaine says. “Do we need to take you to the hospital or something? This can’t be healthy.” Blaine drags Kurt forward a little more and starts rubbing his hands along Kurt’s arms, which is more soothing than Kurt would ever care to admit.

“No, I just need my boyfriend to maybe not try to _knee me in the balls_ when I come looking for a snuggle,” Kurt says pointedly, arching an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Blaine says sheepishly, ceasing his arm rubs. “I was dreaming about a zombie apocalypse and felt cold all over me and kind of panicked.”

Kurt stops for a moment to process this revelation, pinching the bridge of his nose in his hand. “Okay, no more late-night video games with Sam and Artie,” he says. “Not if this is what comes of it.”

“Yeah, that might be a good idea,” Blaine concedes with a yawn. “God, what time is it?”

“Late,” Kurt says. He scoots in to press a kiss to Blaine’s forehead. “Go back to sleep, B.”

“Want snuggles,” Blaine mumbles, already half asleep. Kurt smiles as he curls up against Blaine’s chest, his heartbeat pounding steadily under Kurt’s ear.

The last thing Kurt remembers before drifting off is the press of lips into his hair.


	31. Misery Loves Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever wanted to make your favorite characters read TFiOS? Then this is the thing for you.

Living with Blaine has taught Kurt all about his fiance’s cute little quirks. Blaine likes to lay out his outfits the night before he wears them, for one, and he always unconsciously runs his hands over his hair three times after he’s done gelling it down.

The cutest quirk Blaine has, though, is definitely his need to read at least a chapter of some book every night before bed (at least on the nights they’re not occupied doing _other things_ , that is). He finishes his moisturizing routine far before Kurt does, so Kurt always walks in on him engrossed in his novel of the week, eyebrows furrowed slightly whenever something intense or worrying is happening.

This week, Blaine is reading some book with a bright turquoise dust jacket, and his forehead has wrinkled into the Defcon 1 stage of emotion. Kurt walks over to their bed and bends over to kiss Blaine on the forehead gently before climbing in next to him.

“What’s wrong, B? Is someone dying?” Kurt jokes offhandedly, trying to ease Blaine’s obvious sadness a little. To his surprise, Blaine’s face immediately falls, and he looks at Kurt tearfully.

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Kurt,” he says, choking up a little. “It hurts too much.” He’s maybe three-quarters of the way done with his book, Kurt notices, and the second Blaine’s done talking he dives back into the novel like it contains the secrets of life.

“Alrighty then,” Kurt says, somewhat nonplussed by Blaine’s mood. He’s been upset by books before, sure, but never quite on this scale. “I’ll just let you finish.”

Blaine grunts wordlessly and keeps on reading, and Kurt pulls out his own copy of Vogue and settles in for the night.

The next morning, Kurt wakes up before Blaine, as usual. When he sits up, he notices that Blaine has dried tear tracks all over his face, and his book from the night before is now across their bedroom and askew on the floor.

“Jesus, did that book end with the outlawing of hair gel or something?” Kurt mutters to himself, not afraid of waking Blaine – he had once slept through a car alarm and a loud party their upstairs neighbors were throwing. He peels himself out of bed carefully and fetches the book off the ground. “ _The Fault in Our Stars,_ ” he reads quietly. “I guess I’m gonna have to give this a try.”  
__________________________________________

An hour later, Blaine walks out of their bedroom, curls rumpled but face freshly washed. He wrinkles his nose as he yawns, the smell of burnt pancake batter invading his nostrils.  
“Kurt? Baby?” he calls out as he walks toward the kitchen. When he arrives, he finds Kurt sitting and crying on the floor, absorbed in _The Fault in Our Stars_ and completely ignorant to the blackening lumps of dough sitting on the stovetop above him. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh, Blaine Anderson,” Kurt says angrily, turning to look up at him. Tears sparkle in his eyes, making them look bluer than usual. “You never told me this book was going to tear out my heart and use it as a punching bag!”

“I didn’t realize you wanted to read it!” Blaine defends himself, walking to the stove and dumping their ruined breakfast into the nearby trash can.

“I woke up this morning to a tear-stained boyfriend and a thrown book. My curiosity was piqued,” Kurt says, standing up. “And now I’m pretty sure I’m never going to be happy again.”

“Where are you, anyways?” Blaine asks. He opens the fridge and pulls out the orange juice, pouring each of them a glass and sitting down at the table.

“Gus just died,” Kurt says, taking a seat next to Blaine. He scowls down at the book. “Which I was _not expecting!_ ”

“Right? I totally thought it was gonna be Hazel,” Blaine says. “But you know what they say.” At Kurt’s inquisitive noise, he continues, “Pain demands to be felt- ow!” He rubs the spot on his arm where Kurt smacked him.

Kurt glares over his glass of juice. “You deserved that one, Anderson. Too soon!”

“I’m sorry, baby. I’ll shut up and let you finish now, okay?” Blaine says, trying to hold back a smile.

“Oka- _Blaine!_ ” Kurt screeches, eyes lighting up as he gets the reference. “No using quotes against me for at least a week, or I’m going to hide all your hair gel.”

Blaine snaps his mouth shut with an audible click and gets busy making breakfast, knowing Kurt’s going to need the comfort food once he’s done. Hell, _he_ needs the comfort food – it’s only been eight hours since he finished the book himself, after all.


	32. Support

Blaine rocked mindlessly back and forth on his heels, whistling the tune he was supposed to learn for his vocal lessons quietly as he waited for Kurt by the front doors of NYADA. Their classes ended at the same time on Tuesdays, so they actually got to ride the subway home together for once, instead of Kurt beating Blaine home like he did every other day of the week. Kurt was running late that day, though, which was weird for him. Kurt was always punctual.

Finally Blaine saw Kurt’s coif bobbing above the cluster of people leaving the dance studios. “Hey, baby!” he called out cheerfully as Kurt got closer. “How was- oof!”

Blaine’s air was cut off by Kurt making a beeline for him and wrapping his arms tightly around Blaine’s shoulders. “Ugh,” Kurt groaned into Blaine’s neck. “I might actually be dead now.”

“What did Cassie _do_ to you today?” Blaine asked as he stroked a hand down Kurt’s spine. Kurt never really enjoyed cuddling in public, so the fact that he was currently nuzzling into Blaine’s neck like he was never going to come out again was a little worrying.

“Two straight hours of jetes and turns,” Kurt said, slightly muffled. “I’m surprised I can still walk, honestly.”

“Poor baby,” Blaine cooed, remembering his own intense workshops with Miss July. “How about we go home and I’ll order some takeout before helping you with some IcyHot?”

“This is why I’m marrying you, B,” Kurt said, poking his head up and smiling beatifically at Blaine.

“I see how it is,” Blaine joked, linking his arm with Kurt’s and heading outside. “You just want me to be your manservant for the rest of eternity.”

“Not true!” Kurt said. “I also want you to be my concubine. Oh God,” he moaned as they walked down the stairs to the subway platform.

“Let’s see if you can even make it back up the stairs at our stop before you start making plans for me to be your love slave, champ,” Blaine laughed, letting Kurt lean on him to relieve some of the pressure on his feet.

Thankfully, their train came quickly, and they managed to get Kurt in a seat with Blaine standing in front of him. A jolting turn threw Blaine off-balance, and he fell into Kurt’s lap.  
Kurt let out a whuff as Blaine landed. “What was that about not being my love slave?” he joked as Blaine straightened himself up.

“Oh, shut up,” Blaine said, whacking lightly at Kurt’s chest.

“Make me,” Kurt said, wrapping his arms around Blaine’s chest and pulling him closer.

“Gladly,” Blaine said, and he leaned in to kiss Kurt for a moment, breaking it off before anyone could whoop or leer or try to take pictures of them. (He’d seen some weird photos on BuzzFeed once.)

Once they reached their stop, Blaine got up from Kurt’s lap and hauled his boyfriend up, too, helping him fight his way to the train door. They traveled across the platform slowly.  
“Oh my God, I think all my muscles are locking up,” Kurt said as they reached the staircase. “I might not be able to make it. I’m going to have to live down here forever.”

“You’re such a drama queen, Kurt,” Blaine said, rolling his eyes but laughing in amusement. “Here, I have an idea.”

“You’re one to talk, Mr. ‘Guys can be divas, too,’” Kurt said as Blaine walked in front of him and crouched. “What are you-”

“Climb aboard!” Blaine chirped, holding his arms out. “I’ll piggyback you up the stairs.”

“Are you actually crazy, B?” Kurt asked, not moving. “I’m like three inches taller than you.”

“You’re also like the same size around as me, Kurt. Plus I’ve built up my shoulder muscles from boxing,” Blaine said, twisting his head up to look at Kurt. “I think I can handle a quick walk up the stairs.”

“If we fall and make the news, I’m never forgiving you, Blaine Anderson,” Kurt warned, but he clambered carefully onto Blaine’s back. “Eep!” he squealed as Blaine stood up and gripped him under the legs.

“See? Easy as pie,” Blaine said, walking up the stairs. The rest of the crowd was giving them as wide a berth as possible, so they made it up the stairs easily and in one piece.

“Okay, B, you can put me down now,” Kurt said, loosening his grip around Blaine’s shoulders slightly even as Blaine tightened his grip on Kurt’s calves.

“One last thing,” Blaine said, and then he proceeded to speed up as fast as he could while making airplane noises. They got about halfway down the block before he stopped and let Kurt down.

“You’re so weird,” Kurt said through his giggles. “Thank you for helping me up the stairs, though.” He kissed Blaine on the cheek.

“Anytime, baby,” Blaine said, offering his arm gallantly to Kurt. Kurt linked their arms at the elbows, and they started ambling their way home.


	33. Proof

Blaine woke up unexpectedly in the middle of the night to a rumbling noise in his ear. _Oh God, what is that?_ he thought as he sat up and rubbed his eyes, not wanting to speak aloud and potentially wake Kurt. _Wait a minute…._

The noise in question had sounded like it was coming from right under him, but he had been curled up on top of Kurt’s chest with nothing but Kurt’s thin pajama shirt separating his chest from Blaine’s head. That meant the rumbling had to be coming from Kurt.

“Oh my God, you liar,” Blaine whispered as quietly as he could, grinning down at his unconscious fiance. “You told me you didn’t snore.” And to be fair, the few times he and Kurt had slept in the same bed before Blaine finally moved into the loft, Kurt _hadn’t_ snored. His allergies must’ve been acting up. “I might have to spike your coffee with a Claritin tomorrow, babe.”

Thankfully, the snores weren’t the deep, buzzsaw-esque kind of snores that no one could sleep through. Kurt was just snuffling gently on his inhales. Blaine even thought it was kind of cute – but then again, Blaine thought everything about Kurt was kind of cute. If Santana had been in here, she might have smothered him by now.

Kurt’s face scrunched up a little as he curled up tighter, obviously cold without Blaine’s body heat nearby. Blaine kissed the wrinkle on his forehead and watched it smooth out before laying down on top of his chest again for a few more hours of sleep before classes that day.  
_______________________________

At breakfast that morning, Blaine couldn’t hold back his teasing. “So I heard something weird in the night,” he said, smirking at his messy-headed boyfriend. Kurt was scowling at the coffeepot like that would make it brew faster.

“Oh, really?” Kurt asked, turning to face Blaine. “Weird like a robbery, or weird like Dani and Santana going at it again?”

“Weird like my fiance snoring into my ear,” Blaine said, still wearing his shit-eating grin. “You’re a big fat liar, Kurt Hummel.”

“You take that back!” Kurt said, pointing furiously at Blaine. His face looked murderous. “I do _not_ snore!”

“I know what I heard, baby,” Blaine responded, standing up and walking over to Kurt for an embrace that was one part loving and one part restraining. “It wasn’t loud or anything, but I could tell.”

“I think you need your ears cleaned out, Anderson,” Kurt grumbled. “I know for a fact I don’t snore.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart,” Blaine said. “Ow!”

“That was for your bad joke _and_ for insinuating that I snore,” Kurt said, rubbing soothingly over the spot on Blaine’s bicep that he’d smacked a second ago. “Oh thank God, coffee’s ready!” He turned away from Blaine to eagerly pour himself a cup, missing the mischievous smile that appeared on Blaine’s face after a thought struck him.  
_______________________________

“Alright, baby, this will settle our discussion from yesterday once and for all,” Blaine said as he exited their bedroom the next morning. He set his phone on the dining table with the recording app already open. “I may or may not have set up the recorder on my phone and left it running all night last night to see if you really do snore.”

“And I don’t,” Kurt said pointedly, taking a seat at the table and pushing a full coffee mug over to Blaine.

“We’ll see,” Blaine said noncommittally as he hit play. There were a few seconds of rustling before an unmistakable rumbling sound emitted from the speaker. “Ha!”

“You – you fabricated that recording or something, didn’t you?!” Kurt accused, face turning bright pink in frustration and embarrassment. “There’s no way I snore like that! I use a neti pot every other day!”

“Nope, this is one hundred percent real, baby,” Blaine said, a little smug. “You, Kurt Hummel, are a snorer.”

“Oh my God, this is _terrible,_ ” Kurt said, dropping his head into his hands. “If I inherited my dad’s snoring, does that mean I’m going to inherit his early male-pattern baldness, too?” he asked, peering anguishedly at Blaine.

“I have no idea,” Blaine admitted as he paused the recording. “But I promise that I will love you regardless of how much hair you have left.” He knelt next to Kurt’s chair to snuggle him tightly, but before he could really get into it, there were fingers scrabbling up and down his sides. “Agh no stop Kurt baby please!” he wheezed out as he tried to break out of Kurt’s embrace.

“That’s for proving me wrong,” Kurt grinned, finally letting Blaine go.

“Well, I know what it does to you when I win,” Blaine said with a grin of his own. “Wait no stop not again!”

Kurt released him after another few seconds of tickling. “You are being extraordinarily mean today, B,” he said, widening his killer blue eyes and pouting jokingly. Regardless of his intentions, Blaine was powerless to resist.

“I think your snoring is cute, baby,” Blaine said, leaning up on his knees to kiss Kurt solidly. “And I will give you anything in my power if it will make you _stop pouting at me like that._ ”

“I have you so whipped,” Kurt said, smiling into another kiss.

“You’re not wrong, Porcelain,” Santana said as she shuffled into the room and over to the coffeepot. “Now can you take your saccharine rainbow lovefest somewhere else? I can’t handle this before I have my coffee.”

“Good morning to you too, Santana,” Blaine said, standing up. He took his coffee mug in one hand and Kurt’s hand in the other and led them back to their bedroom where they could make out in relative peace for a few minutes before needing to get ready for class.


	34. (I Just Wanna) Play My Music

Kurt absolutely loved living with his best friends and his fiance in New York. They had freedom, they had weekly karaoke nights, and most importantly, they weren’t in the fucking Midwest anymore. However, it got kind of tiring sometimes trying to get a little alone time. Rachel always wanted help running lines, Santana always barged in on him if she was bored, and Blaine was just too energetic sometimes to be a good lounging partner.

That afternoon, however, Kurt was finally all alone in the loft until the other three got back from their shifts at the diner that evening, and he was taking full advantage of that time. He’d already done his _Sweatin’ to the Oldies_ workout tape, and he was planning on making himself a perfectly unhealthy sandwich for lunch before watching _Magic Mike_ again. (Not that he couldn’t watch that movie when everyone was home, but Blaine would always blanch when Ken came on, claiming he looked too much like Cooper for him to get into it, Rachel would always talk through the best parts, and Santana made too many lewd comments for a lesbian. It was easier to enjoy that movie by himself.)

Kurt dragged out his iPod dock and plugged it in in the kitchen, turning up his secret relaxation playlist, titled “Kurt’s Music Theory Homework” to keep anyone from playing it when they decided to have spontaneous dance parties. Nothing stopped Santana’s groove faster than hearing 17th century classical come blasting through the speakers, and stopping Santana’s groove was a one-way ticket to Nair in your shampoo, as he’d found out last month. Before he could get too caught up in revenge plans, though, an older Taylor Swift song started blaring through the apartment, and Kurt let himself get caught in one of his jams.

“Can’t you see that I’m the one who understands you? Been here all along, so why can’t you see-ee-eeeee, you belong with me-ee-eeeee, you belong with me,” he sang as he added another layer of mayo to his sandwich. Just as he was throwing himself into a spin to get closer to the sink, he heard the loft door start to slide open, causing him to trip over his own feet. He fell on his ass as voices began to permeate the apartment.

“What was that crashing noise?” Elliott asked.

“Why is Taylor Swift blasting?” Santana followed up.

“Did Kurt steal my iPod?” Rachel queried angrily.

“Kurt? You okay, babe?” Blaine asked, concerned. “Where are you?”

“Down here, B,” Kurt huffed out resignedly. He saw Blaine quickly scurry into his line of sight and extend a hand, which Kurt took gratefully to hoist himself up. Once he was upright, he saw that Dani was also with the group that had returned home, apparently too stunned to speak if the look on her face was any indication.

“Are you seriously playing Taylor Swift right now?” she asked after a moment. “Last week you told me that modern pop music was too plebeian for your cultured tastes when I suggested we do ‘Hot N Cold’ at our next gig.”

“You said no to a Katy Perry song?” Blaine interjected, pouting at Kurt sadly.

“Hey, don’t give me that face!” Kurt yelped. He pulled Blaine in for a hug, incapable of ignoring his wounded expression. “I just needed an excuse to not do that particular Katy Perry song. I never liked that one.”

“All of Ms. Perry’s songs are a gift from above, Kurt,” Blaine said seriously, staring directly at Kurt. Kurt could see Elliott trying to stifle a snicker behind his hand at that statement out of the corner of his eye.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re currently blasting teenybopper pop music, though,” Santana said, steering them back toward Dani’s original topic. “Especially since you demanded I change the station yesterday when One Direction came on the radio so it wouldn’t, and I quote, ‘burn your eardrums out of your head.’”

“Okay, okay, _fine,_ I like cheesy pop music!” Kurt said, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I like Taylor Swift, I like the Jonas Brothers, and I like One Direction. I just hate admitting it because it doesn’t help my already-tenuous street cred. I’m trying to run a _respectable_ band, not the gay alternative to S Club 7.”

“Oooooh, can we do an S Club 7 song?” Elliott asked, looking excited. The rest of the room gave him questioning stares. “What? Everybody Wants Ya is catchy.”

Before Santana could verbally reduce Elliott to so much eyeliner and leather, a familiar guitar riff came blaring out of Kurt’s speakers. Rachel gasped and squealed “I love this song!” before starting to dance around the living room. Blaine quickly ran over to her and began to sing along, the both of them looking like a pair of overgrown five year olds as they began to belt.

“I’m steppin’ into the lava, and I’mma try to keep from going under. Baby, you turn the temperature hotter, ‘cause I’m burnin’ up, burnin’ up for you baby!”

“No. This is not happening _in my own home,_ ” Santana said, disgust dripping from her voice. Dani just patted her arm sympathetically, though Kurt could see her foot tapping along to the beat. As the next verse began, Blaine shimmied over and dragged Kurt into his and Rachel’s dance circle, saying, “It’s on your iPod, that means you have to join us!” Kurt didn’t waste a second getting into it – his fiance was trying to steal _his_ signature dance move, dammit!

“Well, if you can’t beat ‘em,” Elliott said, and he came over to boogie with Rachel and the other boys, too. Rachel immediately grabbed his hands and got him to spin her, prompting Blaine to do the same thing to Kurt.

“I hate you all,” Santana huffed, but Kurt just ignored her and kept on dancing, happy that his friends were just as uncool as him.


	35. The Way to a Man's Heart

Blaine walked into the loft one afternoon to see the TV blaring an episode of _The Bachelor_ to an apparently empty living room. “Kurt?” he called out, confused. Kurt hadn’t been scheduled to work that day, so he got to come home after his morning dance class finished while Blaine was stuck doing a lunch shift at the diner, but they’d made plans to relax for a while before Santana and Rachel got home from their dinner shifts.

A distressed groan from their bedroom informed Blaine of where his fiance had gotten to. “Blaine. Hi. Kill me,” Kurt said once Blaine got into their room. He was flopped belly-down on the bed, head lifted just enough to not muffle his words into their comforter and feet dangling off the far side.

“Uh, no, thanks, I’d rather not,” Blaine said, walking over and taking a seat next to Kurt’s torso. He started rubbing over Kurt’s back, smiling a little when Kurt practically melted under his hands. “What’s up?”

“Cassie totally chewed me out in front of the entire class for having ‘the worst turnout in the history of dance’ today,” Kurt said, rolling on his side to face Blaine and frowning as he air-quoted her exact words. “So I came home and tried to drown my sorrows with cheesecake from that new bakery down the street and bad reality TV, but now I’ve eaten so much that I don’t want to move and my pants are hurting me. You wouldn’t believe the amount of effort it took me to even get into our room.”

“Would you like me to write Cassie a strongly-worded letter informing her of how wrong she is?” Blaine asked, hoping to get Kurt to crack a smile. “I could break out my fancy prep school vocabulary words again, see if I still remember how to use them. McKinley may have permanently dulled my ability to use words longer than three syllables.” Kurt finally smiled at that, causing Blaine to break into a pleased grin of his own.

“I appreciate the offer, B, but I think Cassie would probably try to snap one of your hamstrings if you tried that,” Kurt said. “Your vocabulary will have to find another way to escape the damage from the Ohio public school system.”

“Darn it,” Blaine said, snapping his fingers in mock disappointment. “I guess I’ll be forced to only use the words ‘dude,’ ‘sucks,’ and ‘awesome’ in all of my future conversations.”

“Well, I do love it when you talk fratty,” Kurt said, winking at Blaine. He pushed himself upright and leaned in for a kiss, but quickly broke away, saying, “Ow. Shit, of course it even hurts to lean in and kiss my fiance. That’s just the kind of day I’m having.”

“How about I help you locate some sweatpants and a big hoodie and then cue up _Les Mis_ on Netflix so we can cry over other people’s problems?” Blaine asked, rubbing soothingly over Kurt’s stomach.

“You’re my favorite boyfriend, B,” Kurt said, looking ecstatic. “Even if you only suggested Les Mis so you can drool over Hugh Jackman like I know you want to.”

“I’ll leave you here to suffer,” Blaine said teasingly, making to stand up.

“Wait no Blaine honey I love you please don’t leave me here to die,” Kurt said in one breath, grabbing onto Blaine’s wrist for dear life.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Blaine joked, kissing Kurt on the forehead before getting up and rummaging through their closet for their comfiest clothes. He tossed Kurt some yoga pants and his own old Warblers hoodie, keeping Kurt’s Titans Football sweatshirt for himself. “Think that’ll help?”

“Oh my God yes,” Kurt said, nuzzling the side of his cheek into Blaine’s sweatshirt. “You’ve broken in this hoodie to perfection and now that you’ve given it to me I might never give it back.”

“I’ll add that to the list of things you’ve stolen from me, right below ‘my heart,’” Blaine said, smiling wide.

“If I had the energy, I’d come over there and smack you for that,” Kurt said, pushing himself to his feet. “As it stands, it’s gonna be a struggle for me to even get these pants on.”

“I’d offer to help you, but then we’d never get around to actually seeing the movie, and since watching it with Santana and Rachel would only end in defenestration, I think I’m gonna let you get dressed in peace while I pull up Netflix,” Blaine said, heading for the doorway.

“Nice vocab word, B,” Kurt said before Blaine left. “McKinley didn’t totally destroy you after all.”

“It’s the power of Hugh Jackman’s voice,” Blaine said, dodging the throw pillow Kurt chucked after him through the open curtain. “I love you!” he called out in apology.

“I love you too, asshole. Now go turn on the movie, and maybe pull that ice cream out of the freezer. I think I’m getting a second wind.”


	36. Burnin' Down the House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by spoilers for 5x14.

Living in New York isn’t quite what Blaine had expected, honestly. For one, he’d always pictured a nice, small apartment for just him and Kurt (and maybe a dog, if he could convince Kurt), not a giant, wall-less loft with what felt like half of New Directions living in it in some sort of revolving order. Not that he was complaining about being able to live with both his boyfriend and his best friends, but it was weird going directly from talking about _Star Wars_ at dinner with Sam and Artie to seeing stars with Kurt in their bedroom with only a thin, not-very-soundproof sheet separating them. He’d also never expected to be friends with anyone named Starchild, but really, can anyone ever expect that?

Even though it wasn’t meshing exactly with his fantasies, Blaine had to admit he was still enjoying his life in the city, especially on the mornings when he and Kurt were the last two left in the loft. They could roll out of bed whenever they liked without worrying about Santana or Rachel stealing all the hot water or Sam and Artie getting into a loud spat over who gets the last bowl of cereal in the kitchen, and instead just lounge around with each other. They even had a routine: Blaine would get up and start fixing pancakes as Kurt made the bed, and by the time Blaine was serving up their breakfast onto some plates, Kurt would have two cups of coffee piping hot and ready to go from their Keurig. (Blaine had almost cried when he opened that graduation gift from his parents.)

“Morning, baby!” he called out cheerfully as he saw Kurt enter the kitchen in his peripherals, focusing on shaping one stubborn pancake into a perfect heart form like the rest. When he looked up again, he almost dropped his spatula onto the gas flame of their old stove.

Kurt was wearing nothing but his tiny lavender briefs and yawning as he fiddled with the coffeemaker, putting in a mocha-flavored cup for himself and centering his cream-colored mug beneath the spout. His hair was mussed from sleep (and from Blaine pulling on it a little last night, if he was being totally honest), and his skin was flushed a light, pretty pink. His tattoo stood out stark against his shoulderblades, and Blaine felt his knees almost give out beneath him at the sight. “G’morning, B,” he said sleepily, ducking his head slightly and hiding another yawn cutely behind his hand. “B?… _Blaine,_ ” he said when Blaine didn’t respond after a moment.

“Guh- hello,” Blaine said dumbly. “Hi.”

“I think we established that you’re greeting me, Blaine,” Kurt said, expression caught somewhere between wryness and concern. “Did I actually fuck your brains out last night?”

“Well excuse me for getting a little distracted when my gorgeous fiance walks into our kitchen wearing nothing but sex hair and his underwear,” Blaine said. “God, you really are more comfortable in New York.”

“I assure you, I didn’t normally hang out in just my skivvies when it was only me and the girls here,” Kurt said, getting a mischievous look on his face. “Then we usually hung out naked. You boys are really cramping our sty- oof!” He was cut off by Blaine practically hurling himself across the small kitchen and kissing him hard, not wasting a second before adding some tongue.

“Liar. If you’d seen Santana naked I would’ve seen your head explode from Ohio,” Blaine said when they had to break for air, smirking.

“I’m not the one who had to run away from my friends talking about boobs, Anderson,” Kurt said, smirking right back. “Just wait until Santana and Rachel’s mutual PMS cycle hits. You’ll be hiding under our bed and crying within a day.”

“Right now I’d rather be _in_ our bed making you cry my name,” Blaine said, grabbing Kurt’s hand and walking them back to their bedroom. “It’d be nice if we didn’t have to leave it for any reason today, either.”

“God, it’s so easy to get you going,” Kurt said, almost moaning the last few words as Blaine starting kissing his neck and laying him down on their bed.

“Likewise,” Blaine said, his last coherent phrase until the simultaneous occurrence of the smoke alarm going off and Santana coming home. (“Baby gays, the phrase is ‘ _steam_ up the place,’ not ‘smoke out your roommates.’ Oh my God, were you _really_ making heart-shaped pancakes? That’s so adorable that I think I’m going to be physically sick.” “Shut up and help us air out the loft, Satan.”)


	37. By My Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5x14 reaction ficlet.

_Toss. Turn. Thwack!_

Kurt kept fluffing his pillow and rolling over in bed, trying to get comfortable. He felt too cold and too restless and like something was _missing_ for God knew what reason.

“Ugh,” he groaned into his pillow, hoping he might able to smother himself into getting some rest. “You’ve slept without Blaine by your side for months, Hummel, so what the fuck is keeping you from doing so now?” He squeezed his eyes shut tighter in a futile gesture before giving up and starfishing himself on the bed, entirely resigned to his fate.

 _You and Blaine both agreed that he should move out to keep your relationship stable,_ one side of his mind reminded him.

 _Yes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want him in my bed at all times!_ the more petulant side of his brain spoke up.

 _Would you like him to come back and smother you?_ his patient side chided.

 _No, but I could go for more lemon-blueberry pancakes. I’m wasting away to nothing!_ his childish side whined.

“Oh my God, I’m finally losing it,” Kurt whispered, snapping himself out of it. “Next I’m going to see a puppet version of my fiance come waltzing in here with muffins.”

“Kurt?” Rachel’s voice came screeching through the loft. “Are you okay? I thought I’d stop hearing weird noises now that Blaine’s not living here anymore.”

“I’m fine, Rach, go back to sleep!” Kurt yelled back exasperatedly.

“I’m only asking because I care about you!” Rachel shrilled. “I’m risking permanent damage to my vocal cords for th-”

“ _Just go back to sleep, Rachel!_ ” Kurt interrupted. He buried his head back in his pillow for a moment to stifle the deep sigh he had to let out because of Rachel’s antics, then dug his phone out from the pile of stuff on his nightstand, calling Blaine practically without looking at the screen.

“H’lo?” Blaine’s voice came over the line, sleepy and low-pitched.

“Blaine?” Kurt said, trying to speak softly but still be heard on Blaine’s end. “Are you sleeping alright?”

“I’d literally _just_ fallen asleep when you called me,” Blaine said. Kurt could hear his pout through the call. “Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s just…I can’t sleep, either,” Kurt said, a little sheepish. “I’m also already missing my breakfast in bed, if I’m being totally honest.”

“I knew you were just marrying me for my recipes,” Blaine teased.

“Not just your recipes!” Kurt said, mock-scandalized. “I also want you to warm my bed and be my human cuddle pillow.”

“That’s so romantic, baby,” Blaine said, laughing softly. “I should’ve had a line like that in my proposal.”

“Oh, shut up,” Kurt said, spurring on a fresh round of giggles from Blaine. “But really, this is probably the worst night’s sleep I’ve ever gotten, and I know there’s nothing here to eat besides Rachel’s terrible vegan cereal. Why did I let you move out again?”

“Because chaining me to your bed is a little too _Fifty Shades?_ ” Blaine suggested.

“We could make it work,” Kurt said, mind whirring at the images that conjured. “And I’d make sure you could reach the kitchen easily so we could be well-fed for all our sexual deviancies.”

“I don’t know if I’m scared or aroused right now,” Blaine said with a snort.

“I think I scared myself a little,” Kurt said, trying to sound innocent and glad Blaine couldn’t see his smirk. “Come check on me and make sure I’m okay?”

“You just want me to whip up some crepes tomorrow morning, Kurt Hummel. I can see right through you,” Blaine said, accusing him jokingly. “But since I’m actually not faring much better than you when it comes to trying to sleep, I’ll make the long, terrible journey back to _Bushwick_ in the _dark_ at _four am_ in order to please my imperious glutton of a fiance.”

“I love you so much, Blaine.”

“I love you too. Always, Kurt.”

Kurt hung up his phone and waited for Blaine to arrive, drifting in and out until he saw his phone light up with an _I’m here!_ text about twenty minutes later. He quickly padded out of bed and across the apartment to let Blaine in, engulfing him in a hug as soon as he got the door open.

“Hi,” Blaine whispered, smiling brightly.

“Hi,” Kurt whispered back, tucking his nose into Blaine’s neck. “Let’s go back to bed.”

They hurried across the apartment, trying not to wake Rachel, and fell into the bed. Blaine toed off his boat shoes before curling up next to Kurt, dropping his head onto Kurt’s chest. “Yeah, this is a lot better,” he said, sighing in contentment.

“We might need to have a lot of sleepovers,” Kurt said, already dozing off now that Blaine’s incredible warmth was back against his side where it belonged.

“My place next,” Blaine said sleepily, the last thing Kurt heard for a few hours. Next thing he knew, it was past eight and the smell of cinnamon toast was wafting through the loft.  
He smiled almost involuntarily and went out to greet his fiance before they went their separate ways for a little while, thinking _absence makes the heart grow fonder, true, but breakfast makes the heart grow fondest._


	38. Filthy Chainsaw Murder Party

The sound of screams coming from the loft actually doesn’t phase Blaine too much as he jogs up the stairs, purposely early to Monday night potluck in the hopes that he and Kurt can have a little alone time before the loft fills with their exuberant friends and roommates. He’s used to Santana and Rachel getting into semi-daily screeching fights about whatever trivial offense one of them supposedly committed, so he figures Rachel’s harping on about Santana drinking her fancy herbal tea again or Santana’s threatening to cut Rachel for using the last of her shampoo.

He finds out that’s not actually the case when he gets to the door.

When he slides the loft’s heavy metal door open, he finds that the screams are emitting from the TV as Kurt and Santana watch something that’s probably called _Filthy Chainsaw Murder Party_ if what he can see onscreen is any indication. He looks away quickly before any of the images can sink too far into his mind and scar him forever, calling out a cheerful, “Hey, guys!”

“’Sup, short stack?” Santana responds leisurely, not looking away from the TV. Kurt doesn’t move at all, eyes fixed raptly at the movie and wide with terror.

“Kurt, baby?” Blaine asks quietly once he’s a bit closer. “You okay?” Kurt’s only response is a prolonged whimpering noise that snaps Blaine’s heart like a twig.

“He’s been unresponsive since about the third decapitation,” Santana says, cavalier as always. “I’m just waiting for him to flip the coffee table in horror as he runs and hides in your bedroom like the delicate little flower he is.”

Blaine shoots Santana an impressively withering glare. “Santana. Do you remember the last time you made Kurt watch one of these movies with you and he made you stay up til three in the morning ghost-proofing the loft?”

“That’s why I waited for you to move to town before doing this again, dipshit,” Santana says. “I figured you’d spend the night and whisper sweet gay rainbow dreams in his ear to keep him from disturbing my beauty sleep.”

A high pitched whine from Kurt keeps Blaine from retorting, much as he’d like to. “Baby. Hey, c’mere,” he says, kneeling down in front of Kurt and gathering him to his chest. Kurt’s stiff, tense with fear, but he slowly relaxes into Blaine’s embrace, nuzzling his face into Blaine’s shoulder and the soft cardigan he’s wearing. “Shhhh, Kurt, sweetheart. It’s just a movie.”

“Five girls were murdered before the opening credits even finished, Blaine!” Kurt says shrilly, muffled into Blaine’s neck. “I’m never going to be able to help Dad cut down our Christmas tree ever again.”

Blaine manages to choke back his giggles before Kurt hears and gets even more upset, but Santana lets out a loud cackle at that. “For someone with such a huge package, your balls are tinier than a Ken doll’s, Porcelain.”

“Santana, so help me God, I’ll put Nair in your shampoo,” Blaine says, hitting the end of his rope. “Stop antagonizing my fiance! Also, how do you even know how big he is?” he sputters after a moment.

“I’m a lesbian, not blind,” Santana says, shrugging. “Your elfin prince of a boyfriend wears the world’s tightest jeans and I am forced to contemplate how big his junk is when I see him walk around in them. It helps me digest my breakfast.”

Blaine blinks at that, not sure if there’s a good response to that kind of statement even after knowing Santana for years. “O…kay,” he finally says. “I’m just gonna go take my fiance to bed and hope I forget I ever heard you say that.”

“Wanky.” Blaine ignores that in favor of coaxing Kurt to stand up and leave.

“Hey, Kurt, love. Can you stand up with me? You don’t have to move your head, just your legs.” He starts pushing himself up to his feet, Kurt thankfully following easily. He stubbornly leaves his head tucked into Blaine’s neck, prompting Blaine to start petting his hair as he walks them carefully into Kurt’s bedroom. Blaine’s grateful that the privacy curtain muffles the sound slightly once it’s shut behind them.

“Why do I let Santana talk me into these things?” Kurt asks once they’re settled on the bed, cuddled up face-to-face with Kurt’s head on Blaine’s shoulder.

“I think she actually knows how to hypnotize people and force them to do her bidding,” Blaine says, stroking down Kurt’s back. “That’s probably what she learned when she was off on Lesbos with Britt.”

“You are spending _way_ too much time with Sam,” Kurt says with a snort of laughter. “Did you read that in one of your _Star Wars_ stories?”

“No,” Blaine pouts. “It was actually an _X-Men_ story.” He can’t keep the petulance out of his voice, much to his chagrin. Kurt laughs more.

“I’m sorry I mixed up your fictional universes,” he apologizes, entirely insincere. “I’m sure the wrath of Comic-Con nerds everywhere will rain down on me soon enough.”

“Weren’t you traumatized a second ago?” Blaine asks, full of mock hurt. “Shouldn’t that keep you from making fun of me?”

“Teasing you is making me feel better, B,” Kurt pouts, batting his eyes. “Are you really going to begrudge me my coping mechanisms?” Blaine groans and leans in for a kiss that quickly becomes heated.

“Way to guilt trip me into kissing you, Kurt,” he says once they break for air. “Or is that just another one of your coping mechanisms?”

“Give the man a prize,” Kurt says like an old-school game show announcer.

“I can think of a good one,” Blaine says, capturing Kurt’s lips in another kiss.

They manage to get in a decent make-out session before potluck night, much to Blaine’s delight.


	39. A Little Flirting Won't Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how truly awful some of these pick-up lines are.

“Is there a mirror in your pocket?”

“…What?”

“Is there a mirror in your pocket?” Blaine repeated himself. The shit eating grin on his face had Kurt a little worried, if he was being entirely honest. “Because I see myself in your pants.”

“Blaine, _why-_ since when do you use God-awful pick-up lines?” Kurt asked, facepalming hard and stifling a reluctant laugh into his hands.

“Sam told me he uses them all the time on Mercedes,” Blaine said. “He actually bet me that he could get her into bed using ‘awesome’ lines faster than I could get you.” Blaine air-quoted around “awesome,” pulling a face that showed his true opinion on Sam’s idea of flirtation.

“Oh, so now our trysts are fodder for bets between a couple of bros?” Kurt said, arch yet joking. “What happened to ‘I don’t like knowing our roommates can hear us make love, Kurt!’? Has the romance finally gone?”

“If I win, he promised to let me pick the next ten _Star Wars_ fanfictions we read,” Blaine said earnestly. “And I just found this really good saga about Chewbacca!”

“Oh, well, if _Chewie’s_ at stake, hit me with your best shot, Anderson.” Kurt sprawled out on his back on his bed, sticking his hands behind his head to give a true picture of relaxation. “You’ve got a bet to win, and you know I only date champions.”

“No pressure there,” Blaine teased, getting up and standing on the opposite side of the bed from Kurt. “Okay, uh…you must be from Tennessee, because you’re the only ten _I_ see.” He pointed at Kurt and then himself at the appropriate points in a manner that would bring a tear to Coop’s eye, voice going deeper and smoother.

Kurt let out a spate of giggles. “That was _terrible._ Got anything better?”

“Did it hurt?”

“Did what hurt?”

“When you fell from heaven, angel,” Blaine finished up, shooting Kurt a smile that was probably supposed to be winning but just looked smarmy since Blaine couldn’t hold back his own laughter.

“Flattering, but not good enough. I’m half tempted to get up and leave,” Kurt said, pushing himself upright as a look of inspiration passed over Blaine’s face. He turned around, giving Kurt an excellent view of his ass, and stuck his hand in his back pocket in a manner Kurt could only describe as caressing.

“Oh, good, I have my library card,” Blaine said, turning his head back first, then the rest of his body. Kurt couldn’t keep his face from falling slightly as he lost sight of Blaine’s incredible ass. “That means I can check you out, gorgeous.” Blaine leveled his gaze on Kurt’s face before deliberating staring up and down Kurt’s semi-outstretched body, eyes darkening as he did. Kurt could practically feel them burning into him. “Hey, is there something on your shirt?” he asked suddenly, staring directly at Kurt’s nipples, easily visible through his worn, white shirt.

“What? Oh God-” Kurt looked down at his shirt in horror, afraid he’d gotten soy sauce on it from his Chinese food earlier, but Blaine cut him off.

“Nope, sorry, it’s just my eyes.” Kurt snickered lightly at that before looking back up at Blaine and getting trapped in his gaze. “Do you happen to have a band-aid?”

“What? Why?” Kurt asked, slowly losing the thread of what was happening in favor of staring at Blaine, who had crossed his arms over his chest to stare at his (ridiculously muscular) forearms intensely.

“Because I just scraped myself falling for you,” Blaine said, winking at Kurt. It was a testament to how turned on Kurt was that he didn’t immediately burst into laughter at that. Instead, he took a deep breath before wetting his lips, feeling a bit like a deer in headlights as a tiny shiver went through him. Blaine walked over to the bed and took a seat practically on Kurt’s lap at that, looking – victorious? “Hey, baby, can we build a garden? I want to put our tulips together.”

“ _God,_ ” Kurt said, before surging forward and kissing the living daylights out of Blaine at that. “I didn’t think you could actually do it.”

“We’re getting married, Kurt. I know exactly how to get you going.”

“Shut up and make out with me more, Anderson.” Blaine did just that, kissing Kurt deeply before getting to work on his neck. Kurt lost track of everything after that, only focusing on _Blaine_ and _more_ and _sweet Jesus when did he learn to do that with his tongue?_

Once the sex haze finally cleared, Kurt turned to Blaine, a cheesy grin wide on his face as a line of his own occurred to him. “I can tell you’re a great boxer, B, because you’re a total knockout.”

“And you said _my_ lines were awful?” Blaine teased, leaning in to kiss the tip of Kurt’s nose after his giggles passed.

“Only speaking the truth, Anderson. Hey, at least you won, right?”

“Thank God for Sam’s inability to use any lines that aren’t Harry Potter themed. Mercedes is never going to forgive him for ‘do you want to whomp my willow?’.”

“ _I’m_ never going to forgive you for repeating that,” Kurt said, shaking his head slightly in mock disgust. “I might never be able to get it up again.”

“Oh, really?” Blaine said, and before he knew it Kurt was ready to go for round two.


	40. Holding You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early!Klaine. :)

It’s been three days.

Three days since Blaine told Kurt he _moved_ him.

Three days since their first spine-tingling kiss.

Three days since Blaine asked Kurt to please, please go out with him.

Kurt’s pretty sure he hasn’t gone more than a couple of hours without pinching himself for the past three days, frantically hoping he won’t wake up from this dream. Every time he pinches himself and nothing happens afterward, he can’t keep the goofy, daydreamy smile off his face, because _Blaine asked me out Blaine_ likes _me Blaine Blaine Blaine-_

“Hey, Kurt,” Blaine says shyly as he walks up to the couch Kurt has commandeered in the study lounge, snapping Kurt out of his trance. “Mind if I join you?”

“Of course not,” Kurt responds, patting the empty space next to him. Blaine sits down carefully, just close enough to Kurt that their thighs are touching but still maintaining a respectable distance, and God, was Blaine actually more touchy-feely _before_ they started dating? “You know, Blaine, I’m pretty sure that you’re supposed to sit _closer_ to me now that you’ve asked me out.”

“But what about the no-PDA rule?” Blaine asks, looking adorably nervous. “I don’t want to get us in trouble if-”

“Blaine,” Kurt cuts in, holding up a hand for silence. “I’m pretty sure no one’s going to mistake us sitting together on the couch for us having mad, passionate public sex, and if they do, I’m gonna personally haul them to an optometrist before they can take us to Headmaster Phillips.” Kurt can feel the blush forming on his cheeks for even daring to say the word “sex” in public, but Blaine’s started giggling, which is all Kurt was hoping to achieve. “C’mere.”

Blaine scoots in closer then, pressing his left side tightly against Kurt’s right and looking over Kurt’s shoulder at the open binder on his lap. “Ooh, are you doing the history homework? Can you help me find the answer to question five?” Kurt nods, flipping to the right page in his notes to point out the section to Blaine, and the next few minutes pass easily as they study together, same as they do every Tuesday since Kurt’s transfer to Dalton. Their next move, though, isn’t quite so standard.

“Mmmm,” Kurt hums unhappily as he shivers. “God, for a school that charges the equivalent of one’s firstborn child in tuition, you’d think they’d fix all the drafty windows around here with some of that money.”

“Oh, are you cold?” Blaine says, eyebrows scrunching in concern. He tentatively puts an arm around Kurt and snuggles in the tiniest bit closer. “We could, uh, go grab a coffee or something to warm us up?”

“No, no, I’ll never finish this work if we leave now,” Kurt says, scooting in a smidgen more. “I just wish these sweaters were as warm as they looked. I hate wearing that shapeless atrocity of a blazer, but at least it’s warm.”

“Here, take mine,” Blaine offers suddenly, quickly shrugging off his blazer. “I’m actually really warm right now, so I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Kurt asks, definitely willing to snuggle up in the comfort of Blaine’s coat but not wanting to leave Blaine out to dry. At Blaine’s nod, he takes the blazer and drapes it over his front, deciding to use it as a surrogate blanket rather than trying to force it on over his relatively thick sweater and button-up combo. He catches a whiff of Blaine’s cologne as he ducks his face back over his notes and unconsciously lets out a sigh. “Thanks, Blaine Warbler. You’re a life-saver.”

“Do you think that merits a kiss?” Blaine asks bashfully.

“I could probably be persuaded,” Kurt says, leaning in for a quick, chaste kiss that breaks apart far too soon for his liking but keeps them from getting written up by a prefect. They snuggle in more as they get back to work, but soon Kurt can’t keep himself from yawning as he looks over his French notes.

“You okay?” Blaine asks, smiling down at Kurt when he pillows his head on Blaine’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Kurt says. He considers sitting back up, but Blaine’s just so comfy and good-smelling that he really can’t find it in himself to move. “’M just tired. Dad and Finn were up screaming at the hockey game last night, so I couldn’t manage to fall asleep in between all of their outbursts.”

“Poor baby,” Blaine says. He almost dislodges Kurt from his shoulder when he claps a hand over his mouth after that statement, blushing a deep red and looking scandalized. “I’m so sorry, Kurt, was that too soo-” Kurt reaches up and slaps a hand over Blaine’s mouth, pushing himself upright just enough that he can look Blaine in the eyes.

“If you want to call me a pet name, I’m fine with it within reason, Blaine. If you call me ‘sugarlumps,’ I’m going to be forced to dump you, but ‘baby’ won’t send me running for the hills,” he jokes, releasing Blaine’s mouth when he’s finished.

“Well _darn,_ there go my plans to call you ‘sweet cheeks,’” Blaine teases back. “I suppose I’ll have to settle for ‘sweetheart’ or something equally boring and uninspired.”

“I’m revoking your nickname privileges,” Kurt says, snuggling back into Blaine’s shoulder. “In fact, I’m not letting you do anything except be my study nap pillow.” He pulls Blaine’s blazer up closer to his face and closes his eyes, instantly sagging into a half-awake state. He can feel Blaine chuckle underneath him, but it’s easily ignorable.

“Sweet dreams, my dear,” is the last thing Kurt hears before succumbing to a much-desired mid-afternoon nap.


	41. (I Wanna Go) Out Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5x17 reaction drabble, feat. bartender!Blaine.

"Hey, sweet thing, you look like you could use a drink."

Kurt rolls his eyes at the terrible line, breaking away from his conversation with Rachel to face the bartender. “Is that really how they’re teaching the bartenders to upsell drinks now? I’ve heard better lines from pre-pubescent boys.”

"But can pre-pubescent boys comp drinks for the hottest guy in this bar?" the bartender - Blaine, according to his nametag - says flirtatiously.

"You may have that going for you," Kurt allows, inclining his head slightly. He notices Blaine’s eyes widen hungrily as more of his long, pale neck is exposed. "But I’ll be really impressed if you can guess what I want to drink."

"Easy," Blaine says, arrogant yet adorable. "Long Island Iced Tea. Just like you, it looks innocent, but packs one hell of a punch."

"Oooh, you _are_ good,” Kurt purrs, leaning in seductively. He catches a whiff of Blaine’s cologne and has to consciously keep his poker face on, not wanting the hot bartender to know how truly attracted Kurt is so early in the game.

"That’s not the only thing I’m good at, baby," Blaine says, and _God,_ his voice should not be allowed to go that low and smooth. “If you can wait fifteen minutes, my shift will end and I’ll be able to show off my dance moves, too.”

"I dunno, that’s kind of a long time," Kurt says coyly. He stirs his drink idly, batting his big blue eyes at Blaine and smirking internally at the dumbstruck look that appears on Blaine’s face. "How can I be sure it’ll be worth my while?"

"I saw you checking out my ass in the reflection from the lights as I bent over and got more ice out of the freezer. If you thought it looked good stationary, just imagine how well I can show it off on the dance floor.” Kurt chokes as Blaine says that, prompting Rachel to thump him hard on the back.

“ _God,_ B, you can’t just say things like that,” Kurt says when he catches his breath. “Are you trying to kill me?”

"Hey, you’re the one who suggested we try some roleplay." Blaine shrugs, entirely unapologetic. "It’s not my fault I’m better at talking the talk than you."

"Oh, really?" Kurt says, arching an eyebrow. "We’ll see about that in bed later tonight."

"Says the man who came his brains out solely from my dirty talking last week," Blaine says smugly.

"Can you guys maybe _not_ go into explicit detail about your sex life while I’m sitting right next to you?!” Rachel cuts in, slamming a hand on the bar to get their full attention. “God, it was already weird enough agreeing to play along with your little sexcapade, I did not need to hear about what gets Kurt off on top of it!”

"I think I need to get someone home," Kurt says, giving Blaine an apologetic look. "Raincheck until you get home tonight?"

"Done. I love you!"

"I love you, too," Kurt coos as he leaves, prompting an eye roll from Rachel.

"I don’t understand how you two are somehow incredibly kinky and yet the oldest married couple I know," she says as they head for their bus stop.

"It’s a gift," Kurt teases, preening dramatically. Mentally, he’s already planning out how to surprise Blaine when he gets home. _I did get that edible lube the other day…_

Tonight’s going to be a fun night, if Kurt has anything to say about it.


	42. A Barole Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Barole, Coffee Shop, GO!!!
> 
> Although Klaine are mentioned and their daughter is involved, so there's that.

"Burt, honey, this is a little weird," Carole said, sipping her latte and giving her husband a judgmental look from across the tiny table.

“Shhhhh,” Burt hissed, flapping his hand at her in a _shut up!_ motion and narrowing his eyes angrily over his to-go cup. “If that Puckerman boy thinks he’s going to make a move on _our_ granddaughter, I’m going to rip that God-awful mohawk right off his head.”

"You’d think Puck would have told him that style never actually worked for him back in the day," Carole mused, pulling out her phone to text Kurt and tell him just how far off the deep end his father had gone.

_Be there in five. Please keep Dad from embarrassing Ella in public, or Blaine and I will never hear the end of it when we get home later and then I’ll be forced to delete Dad’s recording of the OSU-Michigan game “accidentally” as payback. - K_

Carole snickered at that and kept drinking her coffee. Watching Burt slowly lose his mind as his precious baby granddaughter developed an interest in boys was the best entertainment she’d had all week - especially since Ella had confided in her yesterday that she might be crushing on her best _girl_ friend, and can you help me figure out how to tell my dads?

Carole decided to keep that information secret for a little while longer, since it wasn’t hers to tell anyway, and amused herself by watching that vein in Burt’s forehead throb every time Levi Puckerman unsuccessfully made a pass at their beautiful, snarky granddaughter


	43. Flair for the Dramatic

Blaine slid open the loft door to see Kurt pacing the living room wildly with a panicked look on his face, which was never a good sign. He froze momentarily in shock before walking over to Kurt and putting his hands on Kurt’s upper arms to focus his attention. “Kurt, baby? What’s wrong?” he asked firmly, fearing the worst.

“We’re gonna have to move, Blaine. Can I bunk with you for a couple of days while Rachel and I find a new place?” Kurt said, which didn’t illuminate anything for Blaine.

“Yes, of course, but _why_ are you going to have to move? Did something happen with the landlord?” Blaine asked. He tried to get Kurt to look him in the eyes, but Kurt kept glancing back at the kitchen like something was going to explode in there. “Kurt.” Finally, Kurt met his gaze.

“There’s a huge spider’s nest in the top cupboard,” Kurt said. Blaine almost choked. “It’s horrifying and gross and I’m seriously considering burning the loft to the ground because _oh my God Blaine I cannot live here._ ”

“Baby, I’m going to need you to take a deep breath for me,” Blaine said, trying to hold back relieved laughter as Kurt complied. He had assumed they had found asbestos in the walls or something the way Kurt was carrying on. “Good. Thank you. How about you go take a seat on the couch and I’ll make you a cup of tea before helping you call the exterminator?”

“An exterminator isn’t going to be good enough, Blaine,” Kurt said darkly. “We might need an exorcist. Or the Ghostbusters.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely giving you decaf now,” Blaine said. He wandered into the kitchen and got on his tiptoes to peer into the cabinet where Kurt and Rachel left their teabags, forgetting that Kurt had said that was the infested one until he saw inside and let out a high-pitched screech of terror. “Oh my God!”

“ _I told you so!_ ” Kurt squealed. Blaine ran over to him and buried himself in the space between Kurt’s body and the arm of the couch.

“That wasn’t a spider’s nest, Kurt, that was a like a sign of demonic presence or something!” he yelled, muffled a bit by Kurt’s shoulder. “I think I saw that in a horror movie once with Sam, and no one lived through that film!”

“What the hell are you two screaming about?” Santana asked as she appeared in the doorway, looking more exasperated than usual. “Did Judy Garland come back from the dead and offer to lead you to Oz or something?”

“The loft is infested!” Kurt said, a twinge hysterical.

“You might want to move back to Lesbos or wherever it was you left Britt again,” Blaine informed her. “This is how apocalypses start.”

“I don’t see anything, baby gays,” Santana said, unimpressed. Blaine supposed she must be used to the levels of crazy that flowed through the loft at this point.

“Top cupboard,” is what Blaine actually said aloud, gesturing in its general direction. Santana sauntered over there and actually stuck her entire head in the cabinet, which Blaine thought was simultaneously incredibly brave and incredibly stupid.

“ _That’s_ what you two have your panties in a twist about?” she said upon emerging, giving them a judgmental look. “There’s like two spiders and a mess of cobwebs in there. If someone could be persuaded to actually _do_ her chores for once, you wouldn’t even have known they were here.”

“Can you just get rid of them?” Kurt asked vehemently. “I have a huge test coming up in stage combat, I cannot afford to get a spider bite on any part of my body right now.”  
“Becoming Spidergay could only improve your test scores,” Santana noted, but she quickly eradicated the spiders anyways.

“Thanks, Santana,” Blaine said gratefully once the danger had cleared. “Remind me to bake you some cookies or something for this.”

“I’d prefer it if you tried to move your sexytimes to your place for a while, actually.” Blaine couldn’t keep himself from flushing. “I just want one evening where I can come home from work and not hear you two getting it on to the sounds of some film score. You’ve absolutely ruined _Moulin Rouge!_ for me and I may never forgive you,” she said, flouncing out of the living room and into her bedroom. The curtains closed with a sharp snap behind her.

“Want to pretend we never heard that?” Kurt asked after a moment of stunned silence between them.

“I’ve never heard a better idea in my life.”


	44. Cure-All

_Hic!_

“No.”

_Hic!_

“This is not happening.”

_Hic!_

“Porcelain, if you don’t go drink some water right fucking now I’m going to drown you!” Santana yelled, preventing Kurt from making yet another angry interjection to no one. “Get rid of those hiccups or I get rid of you.”

“Yes, because I wanted to sound like a squeaky toy, Satan!” Kurt shot back. He glared at Santana’s closed curtains and wandered from the couch to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. “I don’t believe she’s – _hic!_ – required by law to take a siesta every day because she’s Hispanic.” He knocked back his drink and waited, managing to count to four before-

_Hic!_

“Ladyface!”

“I’m trying, Santana, what would you like me to do about this?!” Kurt gave Santana the evil eye as she poked her head out from behind her curtains, black sleep mask askew on her forehead.

“You’d think being engaged at nineteen to the male version of Berry would be enough to scare the hiccups out of you, but you must have some weird gay immunity to that. How’s about I put on _Robot Death Rampage 3_ and see if that fixes you up instead?”

_Hic!_

“No, Santana!” Kurt tried to block her from reaching the TV, but she tickled his sides – _damn it, why did he have to tell her he was ticklish there?_ – and evaded him, pulling up Netflix and starting the movie before he could even get over his giggles and back to the couch.

“Plant it, Porcelain. If you’re going to disturb my precious, precious beauty sleep with your high-pitched, annoying hiccups then you can at least let me watch you panic and cry over the electrocutions in this movie to make up for it.” Santana smacked the open spot on the couch twice at that, and Kurt heaved a sigh before taking his place next to her.

“I hope you know I’m eventually – _hic!_ – going to end up hiding in your lap, and I will try to squish you.”

“Save it for your man candy. Now pipe down, I can’t hear the screams!”

Kurt begrudgingly turned his attention back to the screen, and – _oh dear God that girl just got decapitated by a Roomba_. He didn’t want to watch the horrorfest, but he also couldn’t turn away; it was too transfixing. He slowly curled into himself as the movie continued, getting intrigued despite himself and still letting out the occasional hiccup, unfortunately. He was shaking like a leaf as five people got eaten by one of those little robot dogs when the loft door slid open, causing him to let out a scream. It would’ve been impressive if he hadn’t had to hiccup midway through it.

“Kurt! Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you hiccuping? What the hell is this movie?” Blaine questioned frantically as he practically ran over to Kurt. He knelt down in front of the couch and set his hands firmly on Kurt’s feet, which were up on the cushions. Kurt broke away from the movie and looked Blaine in the eyes.

“I – _hic!_ – have the hiccups, so Santana – _hic!_ – put on this movie to scare them out of me,” he explained, deciding it was easier to just give the short version.

“You couldn’t just drink some water?” Blaine said, eyebrows scrunching.

“Tried that, Pippin,” Santana said. “This was Plan B.”

_Hic!_

Blaine slapped a hand over his mouth as Kurt and Santana both stared at him.

“Oh God, not you too,” Santana groaned. “I can’t live like this.”

“B, I know – _hic!_ – we’re a team, but this is rid- _hic!_ -ulous,” Kurt said. He smiled wryly at Blaine.

“I guess we really – _hic!_ – do have to share everything,” Blaine said. “Hey, I – _hic!_ – have an idea!”

“Muzzles?” Santana asked hopefully. Both boys ignored her.

“Would kissing – _hic!_ – and making it better still – _hic!_ – apply to this?” Blaine continued, grinning.

“Couldn’t – _hic!_ – hurt,” Kurt said, returning the smile. He leaned down as Blaine leaned up, and their lips connected. They kissed for what felt like hours, until the sound of Santana fake retching couldn’t be blocked out any longer. “Did that - ?”

“I think it did,” Blaine confirmed.

“Jesus effing Christ, did you two seriously become even more unbearably Disney Prince-esque and use _true love’s kiss_ to get over the hiccups?” Santana said, shaking her head in disgust. “I’m going to leave before I develop diabetes. If you need me, I’ll be in Hell’s Kitchen, cleansing my palate.” She threw on some shoes and stalked out, seemingly uncaring that she was in old Cheerios sweatpants and a mismatching Spotlight Diner t-shirt.

“Want to turn this off and watch _Enchanted_ instead?” Blaine asked.

“I knew I was marrying you for a reason,” Kurt said, patting the still-warm space next to him. Blaine clambered up almost before Kurt got his hand out of the way, and they settled in for some much-needed quality time.


	45. The Big Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: kurt becomes groomzilla and blaine is okay with anything as long as he will marry kurt in the end

Blaine stopped outside the loft door and took a deep breath, counting to three mentally before sliding the door open and entering the blast area.

“Blaine _thank God_ you’re home you would not _believe_ what the baker is trying to quote me for a cake price right now,” Kurt said in one long breath. He was stationed at the kitchen table and surrounded by wedding magazines, fabric samples, and the wreckage of his bacon and tomato quiche from that morning. “She said it would cost _more_ for a _smaller_ cake because we want organic ingredients! I’m going to report her to the Better Business Bureau, this has to be illegal.”

“That does sound a little-”

“And then the florist, _the florist,_ who says that color-matching our daffodils to the groomsmaid dresses is impossible even though I know they did it on _Say Yes to the Dress _once. The incompetency of all these people is just _astounding,_ Blaine.” Kurt raised his hands and face to the heavens like the god he didn’t believe in would suddenly appear and commiserate.__

__“Babe, how much coffee have you had today?” Blaine asked, thankful he managed to get a word in edgewise._ _

__“You know, one or two…pots,” Kurt admitted, shamefaced. “But people are idiots and drinking coffee keeps me from cursing them out over the phone.”_ _

__“And while I appreciate not having to pick you up from the police station for a noise violation, maybe you could consider taking a break for a moment? Tell me what we _do_ have settled,” Blaine said, finding a scant space next to Kurt and taking a seat. Kurt leaned over and cleared some more room for him, lifting a huge stack of silk squares onto the table._ _

__“Well, you know we have the date and the venue and all that jazz,” Kurt said, pointing to a checklist in his massive wedding binder. “And we know who’s in the wedding party and what colors they’ll be wearing – great choice on continuing with our color scheme from your proposal, by the way. Really ties everything together.” Blaine smiled happily at that as Kurt continued, “And we know where the reception will be, too. Now I’m working on flower arrangements and catering and convincing Rachel that simply having a different color dress will be enough to show that she’s our maid of honor, so she doesn’t need to bedazzle it, too.”_ _

__“Good luck with that,” Blaine said. “I think I overheard her on the phone with QVC ordering a few new sets of rhinestones.”_ _

__“I will bake you cookies for a week if you make that package disappear before Rachel gets home to see it,” Kurt said, looking deathly serious. “Our wedding cannot include Rachel blinding people with her outfit.”_ _

__“Done,” Blaine said, pecking Kurt on the cheek in lieu of a handshake. “Now, how about we figure out either the food, the flowers, or the photographer today before calling it good for now and taking a break to catch up on _Dance Moms_? I need you to keep your blood pressure down long enough to actually see our wedding day, sweetheart.”_ _

__“You drive such a hard bargain, B,” Kurt said. “Fine, but if we have to scramble at the last minute because you made me procrastinate on everything, I’m taking our honeymoon alone.”_ _

__“Please, you wouldn’t get halfway to the airport before calling me and saying you missed me,” Blaine said, smirking._ _

__“Just for that, you have to give me a foot rub when we watch Abby Lee terrorize everyone later,” Kurt said as he reached for the catering pamphlets he’d amassed._ _

__“Oh no! Not a foot rub!” Blaine gasped. “Anything but that! I hate taking care of my wonderful, perfect fiance!”_ _

__“You’re such a dork, honey.”_ _

__“But I’m _your_ dork, Mr. soon-to-be Anderson-Hummel.”_ _

__“I’ll never get tired of hearing that,” Kurt said, smiling softly._ _

__“Good, because I’ll never get tired of saying it.” Blaine leaned in for a brief, light kiss before turning his attention to wedding planning, excited to be planning the ceremony that would link him and Kurt for the rest of their lives._ _


	46. The Birds and the Butterflies

“Oh my God, I love springtime in New York,” Blaine said ecstatically. He dropped Kurt’s hand and broke into a spin, almost smacking into a few other people who were next to them on the trail and earning a few glares.

“Blaine, honey, come back here before someone pushes you into the duck pond,” Kurt said. “Honestly, it’s like you’ve never been outside before.”

“It’s the first time in _months_ that we haven’t had to wear three shirts, a sweater, and a parka just to get the mail, Kurt, I’m reveling in it!” Blaine ambled back to Kurt and rejoined their hands. “The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and- ooh, look, someone’s selling birdseed!”

“I feel like such a cradle robber,” Kurt said after Blaine returned from purchasing a little bag of bird food. “Are you nineteen or nine?”

“Shhh, I’m enjoying my last few days of being a teenager,” Blaine said. “Next week I’ll be in my twenties like you and then I’ll have to be mature and well-behaved all the time.”

“Maybe not _all_ the time,” Kurt said mischievously. He stuck his hand into the baggie of seed and flung a little handful directly at Blaine’s face.

“Unfair!” Blaine cried. “I wasn’t ready!”

“I’m pretty sure there are no rules in seed wars, sweet- ack!” Kurt spluttered after Blaine threw some seed at him in retaliation and a bit got in his mouth. “Gross!”

“All’s fair in love and war, baby,” Blaine said through a smirk. “Now stop wasting my birdseed, I wanted to actually _feed_ some birds with it!”

“Says the man who just got some _in my mouth,_ ” Kurt fumed. He sulked for a moment before sighing and taking a handful of his own, incapable of sustaining a bad mood on such a gorgeous day. He hummed “Feed the Birds” under his breath as he waited for an intrepid bird or two to come for a snack, and soon he had a couple on the ground where the fallout of Blaine’s attack lay and another right in the palm of his hand, all peeping happily.

“Oooh, I have an idea!” Blaine said suddenly, scaring away a couple of the birds. “What if I- okay, steady, and- yeah!” He had held out his right hand carefully, index finger extended, and lined up some birdseed along the top of it neatly.

“Blaine, what in the world?” Kurt asked, incredibly confused.

“I want to see if one will land on my finger like in movies,” Blaine explained. “I figure bribery might help.”

“I’m not sure if it’ll- really?” Kurt interrupted himself. A bird had already flown over and perched on Blaine’s finger, eating happily. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

“Kurt this is so cool, quick, take a picture!” Blaine said, smiling in joy. Kurt obediently scattered the seed he had left before fishing out his phone and snapping a couple of shots of Blaine and his new buddy. A particularly cute one of Blaine holding the bird up so they could be nose-to-beak became Kurt’s new wallpaper.

“People are never gonna believe this,” Kurt said incredulously. “They’re gonna think I stole you from a secret Disney lab or something.”

“This is the best day of my life,” Blaine said. He whistled three notes at the bird perched on his finger, who whistled back at him almost instantly.

“Excuse me, the day you proposed to me had better take that slot,” Kurt said, only half teasing.

“It might be a tie,” Blaine joked back. He leaned in for a chaste kiss, which Kurt easily granted.

“Oh, hey, I think we scared off your friend,” Kurt said after they broke away.

“Eh, it was worth it,” Blaine said. “Want to continue our walk? I’ve heard the butterflies should be coming back soon.”

“Oooh, yes, please,” Kurt said. “I love butterfly season in the park, it always reminds me of raising caterpillars in jars like my mom and I did when I was a kid.” They linked hands again and wandered over to the closest garden to them, where a bunch of children were eagerly chasing butterflies. Kurt pulled Blaine around them and into a little secluded corner where they wouldn’t step on anyone.

“I think a couple are flying over here!” Blaine pointed out, gesturing at a few tiny orange blots heading their way. “They’re so pretty, oh-” he broke off and started snickering before he could finish his sentence. One of the butterflies had decided that Kurt’s nose would be an excellent place to land, and Kurt felt his jaw drop and his eyes cross as he stared at it in shock. “Now who’s escaped from a Disney lab, huh?”

“Blaine, get a picture!” Kurt hissed, trying not to move his jaw too much in case it scared the butterfly. Blaine obliged, taking a few quick shots and saving the one where Kurt seemed to be staring the butterfly right in the eyes as his new background.

“You’re adorable,” Blaine cooed. The butterfly took off at that to go inspect a nearby bush, making Kurt scrunch his nose a couple times.

“I guess the gardenia scent in my new moisturizer is pretty realistic,” he said, still a bit disbelieving.

“Hey, butterflies are attracted to sweet things,” Blaine said. “You’re the sweetest of them all, of course one landed on you.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Blaine,” Kurt said, snagging his hand yet again. “I think a day like this calls for a frozen hot chocolate, yeah?”

“You don’t hear me complaining.” Blaine started steering them around the still-running children as Kurt pulled out his phone to shoot Rachel and Santana pictures of what happened to him and Blaine today. He could already hear Santana gagging over them in his mind.


	47. Boys, Boys, Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: kurt introducing blaine to pillow bruce?
> 
> (Much fluffier than Discoveries, my more hurt/comfort-y version of Blaine meeting Bruce!)

Kurt woke to the sound of muffled snickering and an empty bed.

“Blaine?” he asked, attempting to push himself vaguely upright for a moment before giving up and flopping onto his back. “Why you laughin’?”

“Because you’re such a cuddle fiend, Kurt Hummel, much as you try to deny it,” Blaine said, way too damn cheerful for a Saturday at – Kurt tilted toward the alarm clock – at _eight forty-five in the morning._

“Wh’t the hell are you doin’ awake right now?” Kurt said. “It’s early. Come back to bed.”

“I was going to make you some chocolate chip-butterscotch pancakes for our cheat day, but I got distracted by you rolling after my body heat like a lost little puppy,” Blaine said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Who’s really the clingy one in this relationship, huh?”

“You wouldn’t let go of me for half an hour yesterday after that homeless man on the corner scared you, B. It’s still you,” Kurt said. He managed to properly sit up at that, feeling energized after letting out some snark.

“I thought he had a knife!” Blaine defended vehemently.

“Uh huh. You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.” Kurt couldn’t stop himself from giving Blaine his _I can see right through you_ face.

“I’m going to make you eat Rachel’s awful gluten-free vegan cereal if you don’t stop making fun of me,” Blaine warned. He pouted and got off the bed, avoiding Kurt’s grabby hands like the seasoned pro he was.

“Fine, I’ll cuddle with Bruce,” Kurt said, matching Blaine’s pout. “He doesn’t back-sass me, either.”

“Wait a minute, who the hell is Bruce?” Blaine said, whipping back around to give Kurt a questioning stare. “I thought that guy you quasi-sorta-almost-dated was named Adam?”

Kurt felt himself freeze at that. “Well, uh,” he started, attempting to explain this in the least-creepy way possible. “Bruce isn’t actually a person, per se.”

“Oh, did you and Rachel get a chinchilla like you were talking about?” Blaine asked. “Those _would_ be great to snuggle with, nice choice, babe.”

“Bruce is also not a chinchilla. Seriously, Blaine? You would’ve seen us setting up a chinchilla habitat by now,” Kurt said, raising an eyebrow judgmentally. “Bruce is a pillow.”

“…What?” Blaine said, and damn, were his eyebrows always that pointy when he was confused?

“Have you ever seen those infomercials for boyfriend pillows? Wait, no, of course not, you go to bed at like ten thirty so you can wake up at this disgusting time on a regular basis,” Kurt said. “Hang on.” He reluctantly scraped himself out of their bed and knelt to reach for the familiar case beneath it, blowing off a slight layer of dust before opening the latches. “This is Bruce.”

“That’s only slightly weird,” Blaine said. “Thanks for showing me this so I didn’t accidentally stumble across what looks like a dismembered corpse one day.”

“Shhh, Bruce, he didn’t mean that,” Kurt teased. “You’re the most handsome torso there is.”

“Hey!” Blaine snatched Bruce out of his case and hooked him around his own neck. “I’m confiscating this until further – wow, this _is_ super comfy. Scratch that, I’m confiscating this forever.”

“Bruce and I are _exclusive,_ Blaine, give it back!” Kurt ran around the end of the bed to grab Bruce back, but Blaine wrapped his arms around Bruce’s torso and wouldn’t let go. Kurt chased him out into the living room of the loft before an idea struck him. “I’ll make you a deal,” he panted, winded.

“Name your terms,” Blaine said, collapsing onto the couch and burrowing into Bruce’s side.

“If you make me pancakes every cheat day, I’ll let you snuggle with Bruce whenever you want.”

“Deal.” Blaine got up and pecked Kurt on the lips in lieu of a handshake before draping Bruce across Kurt’s shoulders to go get breakfast started.

“You’re the best, B,” Kurt said, taking Blaine’s still-warm seat on the couch.

“You say as you snuggle with Bruce. How many harem boys do you need, Kurt? Should I feed you peeled grapes while fanning you with a palm frond next?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say _no,_ ” Kurt joked. “But honestly, you’re the only boy I need, Blaine.” He walked over to the stove and wrapped his arms around Blaine from behind, kissing quickly behind Blaine’s ear. “Especially if you keep spoiling me with food.”

“My mama taught me the way to a man’s heart,” Blaine said, tilting his head back to smile softly at Kurt.

“Sexual availability?”

“That, too. But that comes _after_ pancakes.”


	48. A Beautiful Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Sara Bareilles' "I Choose You."

Sometimes Blaine’s mind was so in sync with Kurt’s that it scared him a little bit, honestly.

He was idly whistling the new Sara Bareilles song to himself as he climbed the last few stairs to the loft, and just as he was about to launch into the chorus, he heard Kurt’s voice singing along to the actual track. Their door was open a crack, probably so they could catch a crossbreeze and air out the apartment, and Blaine could just make out Kurt shimmying along to the music as he walked up to the entranceway.

“ _I choose you,_ ” Blaine harmonized along as he came in, causing Kurt to whirl around and almost fall over in shock.

“Way to scare the shit out of me, Blaine,” Kurt said, throwing a hand over his heart. “I thought we were about to get robbed by a burglar with exceptional taste in music.”

“Hopefully the only thing I’ve stolen around here is your heart,” Blaine said. He gave Kurt a cheesy smirk and a wink.

Kurt gave Blaine an exasperated look and a smack on the arm. “You’re not as funny as you think you are, Anderson.”

“Aw, c’mon, baby. You’re ruining this beautiful start to our life-long love letter,” Blaine teased.

“I am going to _end_ your life if you keep making terrible jokes, B.”

“Party pooper,” Blaine said, sticking out his tongue. “I have to admit, I’m a bit surprised you were even listening to this in the first place. Weren’t you threatening to shove a cheese grater down Santana’s throat last month when she wouldn’t stop singing King of Anything every time you asked her to help out around here?”

“It’s not Ms. Bareilles’ fault Santana doesn’t know how to be a considerate human being,” Kurt said, scowling faintly at the memory. “Plus I woke up this morning and the weather was nice and you were singing this in the shower and I just…got really excited to marry you soon.” Kurt’s voice trailed off lamely, a blush staining his cheeks, and Blaine couldn’t resist the urge to close the gap between them and kiss him hard.

“I’m really excited to marry you, too, obviously,” Blaine said with a slight laugh. “I think that’s a good sign for the future.”

“We can only hope,” Kurt said. “Hey, is it too soon to start wedding planning? Because I think I just got a really good idea for our save the dates, actually.”

“Ooooh, tell me, tell me!” Blaine said, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. “The sooner we get this shindig planned, the sooner I can call you mine forever.”

“Please tell me you won’t continually refer to our hopefully nice and refined wedding as a ‘shindig,’” Kurt said, plopping onto the couch and opening up his laptop. His face scrunched in concentration as he roughed out whatever design he had in mind, and Blaine decided to be a considerate fiance and grab a snack while Kurt worked, wanting him to have the peace and quiet he preferred to really get a job done perfectly. A few minutes later, Kurt let out a triumphant “Done!” and waved Blaine over from the kitchen table to come see his first draft.

The first thing Blaine noticed was a familiar bright yellow and deep turquoise color scheme, followed by the text:

_Telling the world they finally got it all right,  
Kurt Elizabeth Hummel  
&  
Blaine Devon Anderson  
would like to invite you to the start of their life-long love letter on  
May 10, 2015  
Formal invitation to follow._

“It’s perfect, Kurt,” Blaine said. “I’m sure it’ll come to the surprise of no one that we’re using a love song in our invitations.”

“People would probably be disappointed if we didn’t, frankly,” Kurt agreed. “Is the color scheme okay with you? I know we haven’t discussed anything yet, but I really liked how coordinated we looked at your proposal, so I thought we could just carry it on- mmph!”

Blaine interrupted Kurt’s rambling with a kiss, knowing it was a surefire way to shut him up. “I like it, babe. It’s perfect for a late spring wedding, and you know yellow’s my favorite color.”

“One of these days you won’t be able to get away with kissing me into oblivion in order to get a word in edgewise, you know,” Kurt said, smiling.

“You’re a dirty liar, Kurt Hummel.” Blaine mirrored Kurt’s smile. “You know you like my method of shutting you up.”

“I’ll like it more if you continue it after we get to Kinko’s and get these printed up and ready to go,” Kurt said.

“Eloping is sounding better and better all of a sudden.”

“Would _you_ like to be the one to call my dad and tell him we got married without him?”

“…Gimme five minutes.”

“I thought so.”


	49. Being Green

Blaine was already regretting Sam’s Epic Video Game Marathon of Bro Bonding Time and he hadn’t even gotten back to the loft yet. While he’d enjoyed catching up with Sam and Artie in Artie’s dorm and would definitely miss Sam once he went back to Ohio in a couple days, twelve straight hours of Marvel Universe games had left him a little fuzzy around the edges, especially since they hadn’t even started until one in the afternoon. Any time he stayed up later than eleven, things got hazy for him.

 _Ten more steps, Anderson, you can do this,_ he encouraged himself as he finished climbing the staircase to the loft, trying to work up the motivation to get all the way back to the loft and not just pass out in the hallway for some unfortunate neighbor to discover the next morning. _Mr. Cooper is going to call the cops if you don’t get to your real bed, Blaine. He already hates you after the Belt Incident._

Somehow he managed to schlep his way down the hall and into the loft without rattling the door too much, slumping against it once he closed it behind himself. He heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom as he relaxed, a subtle reminder that his fiance was definitely the night owl of their relationship. Blaine pulled himself away from the door and slowly walked towards the noise, figuring Kurt may not have heard his arrival over the din of the sink.

“Kurt? I’m – _holy shit,_ ” Blaine said, jumping back from the bathroom in terror as Kurt turned around. His face was covered in a goopy green moisturizing mask that had dried just enough to make any expression of Kurt’s moderately terrifying, especially in Blaine’s sleepy state.

“Well hello to you, too,” Kurt said, sounding a little perturbed. Blaine could tell he’d be scowling if he could move his face that much.

“I’m sorry, baby. Your Elphaba cosplay threw me a little,” Blaine said. He was sincerely apologetic, but he couldn’t stop himself from snickering lightly at his own joke. Kurt was even wearing a black bathrobe, for heaven’s sake. It was just too perfect.

“Blaine, you’ve seen me put face masks on about a thousand times by now. It can’t possibly be that frightening anymore.” Kurt grabbed his body lotion and started rubbing it into his skin a little more roughly than usual. “Not that it should have been frightening in the first place.”

“Usually I’m aware that you’re putting one on,” Blaine pointed out. “This time I came home late at night to a mossy green fiance after playing as the Hulk all day. I thought art was imitating life for a moment there.”

“Hey, if I’m turning into _any_ superhero, it had better be Captain America,” Kurt said, anger dissipating. Knowing Kurt, he probably thought Blaine’s moment of panic was hilarious now that he had context. “I mean, I went from scrawny to muscular too, and I know about your thing for Chris Evans.”

“Does that make me your Bucky Barnes?” Blaine teased. He walked over to Kurt and wrapped his arms around Kurt’s waist, hooking his chin over Kurt’s shoulder and smiling.

“Hell no,” Kurt said, smiling in the mirror at Blaine. “You, Mr. ‘Guys can be divas, too,’ would be my Tony Stark.”

“For someone who’s only seen one Marvel movie, you sound pretty confident in that answer, sweetheart,” Blaine said, squeezing a bit tighter.

“You should know by now that I’m always right,” Kurt said, capping off his statement by tapping a blob of face mask onto the end of Blaine’s nose. “Here, you can have some, too. We’ll do a miniature spa night.”

“If you insist,” Blaine said, scooping a little more out of the jar and onto his face. “Shouldn’t you be washing yours off soon?”

“I was hoping my kind, lovely fiance would help me out,” Kurt said, giving Blaine his cutest faux-innocent stare. “I didn’t want to miss any, and he gives the best temple rubs.”

“I see how it is,” Blaine laughed. “You’re just using me for your own gain, you don’t care about my relaxation at all!”

“I promise there’ll be a head rub in it for you if you stop whining and help me rinse my face off,” Kurt said, sticking out his pinky.

“Have I told you recently that I love you?” Blaine said, immediately changing his tune. He linked his own pinky with Kurt’s and brought them to his mouth for a tiny kiss.

“You’re so easy to buy,” Kurt said, smirking slightly through his mask.

“Money can’t buy me love, Kurt.”

“Are you gonna shoehorn Beatles songs into every moment of our relationship?”

“You betcha.”

“I expected nothing less, honestly. Now c’mon, little darling, let’s get moisturized and ready for bed before the sun comes.”

“Now you’re speaking my language.” They shared a quick, vaguely citrus-flavored kiss before settling into their spa routine.


	50. Spring Fever

An explosive sneeze from the bedroom almost scared Blaine into dropping the full, hot coffee mug he was holding.

“Well, good morning to you, too,” he teased gently as he walked over to the bed, where Kurt was currently curled up on his side and sniffling incessantly.

Kurt reached a hand out from his blanket cocoon and snatched up a tissue, blowing his nose before speaking. “Blaaiiiine. I feel like warm death.” He rolled to face Blaine and pout pitifully up at him, reaching his free arm out for the cup of tea Blaine had made for him.

“I seem to recall someone saying he’d be _fiiiiine_ if he didn’t take a shower last night when we got back from the park, because he _totally_ wasn’t allergic to pollen,” Blaine said, sitting down on his side of the bed and stroking Kurt’s hair briefly as he drank. “Would you like to reconsider that statement?”

“I’b _not_ allergic to pollen,” Kurt said, sniffing in a way that would have been haughty if it didn’t sound like his sinuses were exploding as he did it. He blew his nose again, looking frustrated. “I helped my mom in the garden all the time as a kid and I was always fine!”

“Really? Because you don’t sound fine now, honey,” Blaine said. He took Kurt’s half-empty mug and placed it on his own nightstand, seeing as Kurt’s was covered in tissues, both fresh and used.

“My mom always gave me this weird vitamin before we went out in the garden, though,” Kurt said, eyes glazing slightly in his remembrance. “She said it helped give us green thumbs and would make sure all of our flowers grew big and strong. I remember it didn’t taste good like my gummy dinosaurs, but I didn’t want our flowers to die, so I took it anyways.” He grabbed another Kleenex, plugged up after speaking for so long.

“Did that weird vitamin happen to be pink and a little chalky, by chance?” Blaine asked, putting the pieces together.

“Yeah, why?” Kurt asked, cuddling closer.

“It sounds like she was giving you Benadryl, babe. Your mom was definitely drugging you to make you think you didn’t have allergies.”

“What?! No, it wasn’t Benadryl!” Kurt said, pushing himself upright indignantly. “It came out of a different jar…that my mom decorated herself and always managed to refill without me seeing.”

Blaine laughed quietly at Kurt’s scrunched-up face. “I’m gonna assume you were stubborn about not being sick even as a kid, then.”

“I’m not stubborn! People just try to keep me from doing what I need to do when they think I’m sick, that’s all,” Kurt said with a frown and a sniffle.

“Uh huh. That totally meshes with you almost passing out on top of me last winter when you tried to leave for school with a 103 degree fever, babe.” Blaine gave Kurt his best _are you kidding me_ look.

Kurt glared at him grouchily for a moment before huffing a sigh. “Okay, fine, maybe I’b a little bit stubborn about not believing that I’m sick. But that doesn’t help me feel any better now!” He blew his nose for the billionth time that morning, if Blaine’s count was correct.

“How about I go start a shower for you so the water’s nice and warm when you finally pry yourself out of bed and then run down to the bodega to grab you some Claritin or something while you rinse all the pollen off of you?” Blaine asked, finally taking mercy on his poor, sniffling fiance. He pulled Kurt into a tight sidehug as he finished speaking.

“That sounds lovely, but I dunno if I’ll be able to get all the pollen out of my hair by myself,” Kurt said, giving Blaine an innocent look. “I might need some help shampooing. I mean, unless you want me sniffling in misery all day.”

“I can probably take this one for the team,” Blaine said, snorting at Kurt’s antics. “I should probably drag you to the store with me anyways so you learn what the real packaging on allergy medication looks like.”

“Blaine, I’ll sneeze in your hair if you don’t stop picking on me.”

“Right! Shower!” Blaine said, hopping out of their bed like it was on fire. “And then allergy medicine and maybe a coffee for my wonderful, precious fiance who deserves to feel better.”

“Now you’re talking,” Kurt said, reclining back on his pillows like a sultan. “Oh, and B?”

Blaine turned back and gave Kurt an inquisitive head tilt.

“Make sure it’s _hot._ ” Kurt’s sultry look prompted Blaine to nearly sprint for the bathroom. His fiance’s libido was the cherry on top of their already fantastic relationship sometimes.


	51. Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fourth of July fic!

It wasn’t that Kurt didn’t like holidays. In fact, Kurt _loved_ holidays – they usually meant spending time with loved ones and eating a lot of junk food, and Kurt was a big fan of both of those things.

What Kurt didn’t like was tacky holiday-themed outfits.

He conceded to wearing Fair Isle prints and maybe coordinating red and green around Christmas, enjoyed donning pink on Valentine’s Day, and gamely figured out a way to incorporate orange on Halloween, but by no means would he wear anything with Santa, Cupid, or some oddly-shaped jack o’lantern. Maybe some people had low standards and no self-respect, but Kurt was not one of them.

His fiance, however, was.

It was their first Fourth of July together in NYC, and they planned on hitting a parade somewhere before just exploring for the day, knowing they’d be surrounded by tourists but figuring they could deal with it for one day. It wasn’t like they didn’t deal with some level of tourists on a normal day, anyways, especially since Kurt worked in food service.

“B? Did you drown in there?” Kurt called from the living room, checking the time on his phone. If they wanted even a prayer of actually _seeing_ the nearest parade, they had to hit the streets soon. “Crap, did you accidentally gel your eyes shut again?”

“Hey, you provoked me into that,” Blaine yelled back. “But no, I didn’t blind myself. I just had to perfect my look!”

“Perfect your- no,” Kurt said, instantly understanding Blaine’s comment once he appeared from behind the curtain. “I did not approve this!”

“What?” Blaine asked, spinning around and showing off his outfit. “It’s festive!”

“It’s _awful,_ ” Kurt responded, unable to keep a look of horror off his face. Blaine was wearing a red and white gingham shirt, blue pants, and a white belt, but the real kickers were his American flag bow tie and sequined Uncle Sam top hat. He’d even painted “USA!” on his cheeks with patriotic face paint. “That stuff’s going to ruin your pores.”

“It’s noncomedogenic, I checked the packaging!” Blaine said, practically chirping. “I also got enough for you!”

“Why in the world would I want to wreck my carefully chosen outfit by adding tacky, childish face paint to it?” Kurt asked. “Do you know how long it took me to plan an outfit that was both patriotic and flattering?” He gestured to his own get-up, close-fitting white skinny jeans with a pale red shirt and a blue and red starred neckerchief.

“You look great, Kurt, you always do,” Blaine said. “Really. But….”

“But?” Kurt parroted, ice cold.

“But it’s a little basic, don’t you think?” Blaine asked, cringing back slightly. “I mean, I think with the face paint, you’d look more…whimsical. Fun-loving.”

“Or maybe I’d be acne-riddled and sloppy once it melts off from the heat.”

“You couldn’t be acne-riddled if you tried, babe,” Blaine said. “But I’ll make you a deal.”

“I’m listening,” Kurt said, intrigued despite himself.

“If you let me paint a set of red, white, and blue stars on at least one of your cheeks,” Blaine began, taking a deep breath in the middle of his sentence to steel himself. “Then I will wash all of the gel out of my hair the second we get home and let you fluff it to your heart’s content while we catch up on _Love It or List It._ ”

“Done,” Kurt said immediately. “That came out faster than I wanted.”

“I know how to bribe you, sweetheart,” Blaine said, smiling widely. “Now come into my lair so I can doll you up real pretty.”

“If you try to give an evil laugh while you paint my face, I’m making you sleep on the couch tonight,” Kurt warned, following Blaine and plopping onto the edge of the bathroom sink.

“No fun,” Blaine mock-pouted. “See, this is why you need face paint.”

“One of us has to be the mature one, Blaine,” Kurt sniffed, though he couldn’t hold back a smile.

“Says the man who made me kill the moth that got in last week while he cowered in bed with the covers over his face.”

“I didn’t say we couldn’t switch off,” Kurt pointed out.

“Fair enough. Now hush or I’m going to smudge you, and then you really will look childish.”

Kurt shut up obligingly, unwilling to have smeared face paint before they even left the apartment. If he smiled after catching a glimpse of Blaine’s cute nested-star design in the mirror on the way out, he didn’t let Blaine see. He had _some_ pride, after all.


	52. Facing Fears

“Can I file for divorce if we’re not even married yet?”

“Uh, no, I think that’s just called breaking up,” Blaine said, chuckling, as Kurt looked torn between turning away in a huff or burying himself in Blaine’s arms. “And I thought we agreed that that didn’t really work out for us the first time?”

“That was before my fiance was actively trying to kill me,” Kurt said, shuffling forward in line a bit. “It’s ‘to have and to hold,’ Blaine, not ‘to have and to launch hundreds of feet into the air at top speed with no brakes.’”

“Baby, I can’t remember ever hearing about someone dying tragically on a roller coaster unless it was a particularly sadistic game of _Roller Coaster Tycoon,_ ” Blaine said, dragging his stiff fiance into his arms. “And since there isn’t a mysterious, unseen force above us just waiting to drag us off the tracks and into a fountain, I think we’re probably pretty safe.”

“I’m still not appeased,” Kurt grumbled, burying his face in Blaine’s neck. Blaine could feel Kurt’s pouty lips against his skin.

“Can I make you a deal?”

“If it doesn’t involve getting out of line for this death trap immediately and driving back to Lima, I don’t wanna hear it,” Kurt said, though he pulled back a little to properly look at Blaine.

“If we live through this coaster ride and you still hate it – because I would like to point out that _you’ve never ridden anything here_ – then I will definitely take us back to Burt’s for the night, but not until after I’ve won you the biggest stuffed animal and purchased you the largest coffee beverage we can find. Then we can spend all night cuddling and watching whatever cheesy VH1 special is on, and I will _also_ let you pick the cake for our wedding without arguing about the flavor,” Blaine said. “Deal?”

“And what if I like it, though I doubt that will ever happen,” Kurt said, looking intrigued.

“I promise not to say I told you so and you can pick the next ride,” Blaine said without missing a beat.

“…Deal. And you also can’t judge me if I scream!” Kurt said, sticking out his hand.

“Of course not,” Blaine said, taking Kurt’s hand. “Now, are you ready? The Maverick has been my favorite ride here ever since it opened and we’re almost to the front of the line!”

“Can anyone really be ready to face certain death, B?” Kurt asked. “It’s like asking, ‘Are you ready to eat that cookie filled with laxatives?’”

“You’re such a drama queen,” Blaine said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, and you aren’t?” Kurt responded, which was a fair point. Before Blaine could retort, though, they reached the front of their gate. “God, aren’t we really far forward?”

“Kurt, we’re in the exact middle of the train,” Blaine said, pushing him forward and into the car before stepping over his legs to toss their satchel with their keys and wallets into the bin provided and sitting back down. He fastened his shoulder restraint down tightly, noticing that Kurt already had his secured and was holding on with a death grip. “Hey. Hey, relax. It’s going to be fun, I promise.”

“I’m already seeing my life flashing before my eyes and we’re not even moving yet,” Kurt said, not relaxing at all. when Blaine started stroking his hands. “I heard everyone screaming, Blaine!”

“Screams of joy, Kurt, screams of joy,” Blaine said as the attendant came by and made sure they were buckled up right. The lead guy gave his spiel with the facts about the ride, and then they were taking off.

“Oh my God oh my God oh my God,” Kurt muttered as they hit the tracks. “This is already going so fast, oh my G- _aaaaaaahhhhhhh!_ ” His voice reached even higher than Blaine was expecting as they whipped down the first hill and into the twists and turns. “You didn’t tell me the track wasn’t level!”

“Oops?” Blaine yelled in between his shouts of ecstasy. “Look at that view!”

“Blaine! Don’t let go of the restraints, are you crazy?!” Kurt screamed as they went down the second hill, looking like he wanted to grab Blaine’s hands himself if it wouldn’t likely mean his own doom as well. “Was – was that it?” he asked as they went into a dark tunnel.

“Not quuiiiiitee!” Blaine said as the warp tunnel shot them out even faster than before. Kurt’s only response was a wordless shriek of some unidentifiable emotion. They hurled down the last few twists and loops before rolling back into the station, both of them out of breath and wind-flushed.

“We’re alive,” Kurt said once they were out of the station and back on solid ground. He flung his arms around Blaine giddily. “Blaine! We’re alive!”

“I know, baby, I was there,” Blaine teased, wrapping his own arms around Kurt in an attempt to keep him from bouncing away. “Well?”

“I…,” Kurt began, looking uncertain.

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve listened to you and not made you ride,” Blaine spit out in one gasp, thinking Kurt had hated it. “Do you wanna- mmph.”

“Blaine. Shut up and let me finish,” Kurt said, having clapped a hand over Blaine’s mouth. “I kinda liked it, actually.”

“Really?” Blaine asked after freeing his mouth. “You’re not just saying that to ease my crippling guilt?”

“Please, like I’d let you off that easy,” Kurt teased. “I’m not that selfless, Blaine Anderson.”

“So I don’t have to take you home immediately?” Blaine teased back.

“If you did, I’d make you sleep on the couch,” Kurt said. “C’mon, that big purple one over there looks really cool!”

“I’ll make an adrenaline junkie of you yet, Hummel.”

“I’m still gonna make you win me a bear, though.”

“I suppose I can live with that. Now hurry up, the line’s getting really long!”


	53. Drastic Measures

_Okay, push off the arm of the couch…balance…reach for the dining table…_

“Kurt?”

“Ack!” Kurt overbalanced in surprise and nearly fell flat on his face in the kitchen before Blaine’s strong arms hoisted him upright again.

“What are you _doing?_ ” Blaine asked, pulling out a chair and shoving Kurt into it as gently as possible. “Where are your crutches?”

“I left them propped against the armchair,” Kurt said, waving dismissively. “I just wanted a glass of water, I didn’t think I’d need them to get from the couch to the sink.”

“Babe, the doctor said you need them for another week yet before you can try putting any weight on your ankle,” Blaine said. “Do you want Suze to kill you for not letting it heal properly?”

Kurt winced at the thought of his director tearing him a new one just weeks before his show was supposed to open. “Alright, alright, I get it. Use the stupid crutches and try not to trip down any more subway stairs.”

“That’s all I’m asking for,” Blaine teased, crossing over to the sink and filling a glass for Kurt, who took it gratefully. “Or else I’m gonna have to take drastic measures.”

“Oh? And what would those be?” Kurt asked, eyes flashing with mischief.

“Let’s just say I have friends in high places,” Blaine demurred. “And if you keep trying to hop around the apartment instead of using your crutches, you’ll see what I mean.”

“Well now I’m intrigued,” Kurt said. He pushed off the table onto his good leg, starting to hop back over to the couch until Blaine’s arms snagged him around the waist.

“Alright, now you’ve done it,” he said playfully, shifting his grip so he could knock Kurt’s legs out from under him and lift him in his arms, making Kurt shriek. “No more walking for you, Hummel.” He set a flailing Kurt on the kitchen counter, pushing their Keurig aside to make room.

“Blaaaaine! What’s this for?” Kurt whined, confused. “I can’t get down from here without hurting my ankle even more, it’s too high.”

“Exactly,” Blaine said, looking smug. “Now you’re my friend in a high place.”

“You did not fucking make a pun about what you were going to do to me. I should dump you for this, oh my God,” Kurt fumed.

“Hey, I’m just trying to help you heal,” Blaine said, stepping in between Kurt’s legs. “And I suppose I was a little off – you’re so much more than just my _friend._ ”

“You’re about to be so much _less_ to me if you don’t get me off this cou – oooh,” Kurt moaned, losing track of his diatribe as Blaine started pressing light little kisses to his neck. “You’re not fighting fair, Anderson!”

“All’s fair in love and war, baby,” Blaine said, smirking. “Think you can sit tight while I get dinner ready?”

“Do I have another option?”

“No, not really,” Blaine said, pretending to think about it. “But I do have a very special dessert in mind to make up for your troubles.”

“I suppose I can find a way to occupy myself until then,” Kurt sighed. “Maybe I’ll practice my bird calls.”

“Oh my God.”  
__________________________

“Blaine?” Kurt asked later that night, just as they were falling asleep.

“Mmm?”

“I think you should put me on bed rest tomorrow, if you know what I mean.”

“I could probably be persuaded. Now shhhhh, sleep is healing.”

“I don’t think sleep heals – oh, you’re asleep. Good night, B.” Kurt lifted Blaine’s hand up to his mouth for a kiss before succumbing to sleep himself.


	54. Mountains and Molehills

Blaine knew he wasn’t the most perceptive of people, but even he could tell something was awry when Santana greeted him with a cheerful, “Hey, Clarice!” one afternoon.

“Uh, hi, Santana,” he said, plunking his messenger bag down by the loft’s door. “Am I supposed to understand that reference?”

“Have you never seen a Claymation Christmas special before, Hermey?” Santana asked, looking disgusted. “Aren’t us gays supposed to be super culturally savvy?”

“It’s kind of the middle of Ju-”

“Just can it, Cindy Lou. You wasted my best material,” Santana scoffed. She snatched up her phone and her old diner uniform before heading for the door, calling out “Anyways, I’ve gotta go. Gunther somehow missed the memo that _I don’t actually live here anymore_ and wants to have a meeting with me about all the shifts I’ve ‘skipped.’ I’m planning on going out clubbing after that, so leave the door open for me, Rudy, okay?”

Blaine just stood there, feeling a little like he’d been hit by a freight train. “Kurt? Why was Santana insulting me with Christmas-y nicknames?” he yelled once he regained some clarity of thought. “Also, why are you hiding in the bathroom?”

“I’m too humiliated to show my face in public,” Kurt said, hiding his face in a hand towel when Blaine pushed the curtains aside and wandered in. “And I thought Santana was you when she came in without warning, so she got on one of her tangents after seeing my disfigurement. That ‘Rudy’ was directed at me, not you.”

“Disfigurement?” Blaine asked, crouching down near Kurt. “What, did you develop a red-and-green tree shaped rash? Because I have no idea what would cause that, really.”

“It’s worse than that,” Kurt said, half-sobbing. “I can never leave the house again.”

“You’re growing antlers?”

“I’m not – just look, Blaine,” Kurt said, apparently disgusted with Blaine’s ineptitude at guessing. He dropped the towel, revealing-

“A zit?” Blaine said, peering closer.

“No, get away! You might go blind if you get too close,” Kurt said, leaning back from his perch on the closed toilet seat.

“Babe, I can barely see it,” Blaine said, still staring. “If the skin near it wasn’t so red, I probably wouldn’t even know it was there. But that still doesn’t explain the Christmas jokes.”

“Blaine. It’s on the tip of my nose,” Kurt said. “What pop culture icon has a bright red, glowing nose?”

“Oh. Oh!” Blaine said, feeling the lightbulb click on above his head. “That makes a lot more sense. The only Clarice I could think of was the one from the Hannibal Lecter movies, and frankly, I was a little nervous.”

“No, I only _look_ like a terrifying, people-eating monster,” Kurt said, pulling the towel back over his face.

“You do _not,_ ” Blaine said, standing up and grabbing some of Kurt’s astringent and a cotton ball. “Have you swabbed any of this on yet?”

Kurt’s head shook minutely.

“Well then how about you do whatever maintenance needs to be done to your face while I grab us both a big, refreshing glass of water to flush out our pores from the inside?” Blaine said. He took one of Kurt’s hands and started pulling him upright, Kurt letting himself be manipulated easily. “And then we can have a spa and movie night? We just bought that Marlene Dietrich box set and I saw this cool face mask recipe on Pinterest!”

“Your ideas intrigue me and I’d like to sign up for your newsletter,” Kurt said, dropping the towel again to reveal a tiny, hopeful smile. “Do you offer membership packages?”

“I’m offering a free trial called Fiance right now,” Blaine said, smirking. “If you like it, you can upgrade to the full-time plan, Husband.”

“Sold,” Kurt said, wrapping his arms around Blaine.

“Good, because I don’t offer that plan to just anyone, Mr. Hummel,” Blaine said, sinking into the hug. “You, sir, just got a special, one-of-a-kind deal.”

“Does that mean I get bragging rights?”

“You can get whatever you want. Now c’mon, we’ve got to stake our claim on the couch now before Santana drags home some rando,” Blaine said, stepping out of Kurt’s embrace just to get up on his tiptoes and plant a tiny kiss on the place where his forehead met his nose. “I’ll make the face masks, you organize our moisturizing routines?”

“Sounds good to me,” Kurt said, grabbing a few of his products off the nearby shelf.

“Just a part of the package, baby.”

“Does the package include _other_ services, may I ask?"

"For you? Always."

Blaine let out a long, obnoxious " _Yessssss_ ” and pumped his fist in victory as he exited the bathroom, ignoring the towel Kurt flung at him as he did.


	55. Waking and Sleeping

Kurt loved curling up with Bruce on nights when Blaine had to work late and couldn’t be there to cuddle him to sleep, but Bruce _did_ lack one key characteristic of a perfect snuggle: a heartbeat. Sure, his chest was perfectly plush and he didn’t complain about being squeezed too tight like Blaine tried to occasionally, but nothing could beat the soothing sound of a heartbeat to really help lull Kurt to sleep.

That night, however, Kurt just had to suck it up and grab Bruce from his case, because Blaine had pulled a double at the diner and wouldn’t be home til nearly one.

“Sweet dreams, Bruce,” Kurt muttered, fluffing Bruce to perfection before fitting his head into the crook between Bruce’s torso and arm. The smell of the cologne he’d stolen from Blaine was strongest there.

It took a few moments, but Kurt slowly stopped rolling and fidgeting in the too-empty bed and succumbed to sleep. Unfortunately, his dreams were less than pleasant. He could only remember flashes of them every time he woke up sweating and gasping, but the sensations of drowning and choking seemed to be present in every snippet that stayed with him when he regained consciousness. He had just fallen back into yet another uneasy slumber when a dip in the mattress and the feeling of something trailing down his spine woke him again and caused him to let out a yell and bat wildly at the intrusion.

“Oh my God!” Blaine’s voice broke through his haze. “Kurt, Kurt, baby, it’s just me, oh my God!”

“Blaine?” Kurt asked sleepily. He flailed his way out of Bruce’s grasp, still a bit mixed up from his jolt into wakefulness, and rolled until he could butt up against Blaine’s thigh. “You’re home. Hi.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Blaine said, petting through Kurt’s hair. “Bad dreams?”

“Nothing concrete. I think all my work- and school-related stress is finally catching up with me,” Kurt said, letting out a low hum as Blaine’s hands worked down to his scalp.

“Bruce is terrible at keeping nightmares away, too.”

“That’s why he’s your second choice for nighttime companionship,” Blaine said, laughing lightly. “I am _much_ better at staving off nightmares than a lifeless boyfriend pillow.”

“I think you need to put your money where your mouth is,” Kurt teased. He pushed away, creating an open space that he could smack while saying, “Work your magic, Anderson.”

“Was that a proposition?” Blaine asked, moonlight glinting off his smirk. “Ow!”

“I’ll kick you out and bring Bruce back,” Kurt said warningly.

“Doubtful,” Blaine said. He reached over and pulled Kurt closer to him, arranging Kurt so his head was on Blaine’s chest and his ear was directly over Blaine’s heart. “Still gonna make me leave?”

“You _are_ much warmer than Bruce is,” Kurt said, stifling a yawn mid-sentence.

“And I have the added bonus of being a real human being with a heartbeat. Bruce’s soundless torso can’t compete with that,” Blaine said, dropping his head on Kurt’s hair.

“I guess I’ll keep you around for now,” Kurt said, slurring a bit in his exhaustion. “At least until the technology’s available to make boyfriend pillows with heartbeats.”

“But can a boyfriend pillow also make you breakfast in bed in the mornings?”

“Alright, alright, you win,” Kurt said. “Now _sleep._ ”

Blaine’s teasing “Yes, dear,” was the last thing Kurt heard before drifting back to sleep. This time, he didn’t wake up til it was morning, the smell of pancakes and syrup the best greeting he’d ever received.


	56. What's in a Name

“Ow. Ow. _Ow!_ Blaine!”

“I’m sorry, Kurt, I don’t know how to make rubbing alcohol sting any less,” Blaine said, not looking up from his task. “I promise I’ll feed you cheesecake tonight so you don’t have to overwork your poor hand.”

“We’re declawing that damn cat as soon as possible,” Kurt grumbled, casting a dark look at their tiny gray kitten, who was curled up in the corner looking deceptively innocent.

“No, we’re not,” Blaine said patiently, working on the last of Kurt’s scratches. He grabbed the Neosporin out of the band-aid box as Kurt heaved a sigh.

“No, we’re not,” he agreed. “I know it’s bad long-term for the cats to be declawed, but it’s bad for my skin _right now_ to be ripped to shreds by an overeager kitten, too.”

“You know Thor just wanted to play,” Blaine said, bandaging the first of Kurt’s three scratches. Thor had only gotten him with part of his paw, thankfully.

“We’re also not nicknaming our cat _Thor,_ Blaine,” Kurt said, wincing slightly as Blaine finished up. “It’s just too…too…tacky.”

“Thunderbolt’s just too long of a name, though,” Blaine said, patting Kurt’s hand to indicate that he could move it again. “And Thor has panache!”

“Yeah, if you’re seven and it’s your first pet,” Kurt said, wandering over to the kitchen and grabbing stuff to start dinner. “What’s wrong with, I dunno, Bolty or something?”

“Bolty?” Blaine repeated, letting out a wheezy laugh. “You really think that’s better than Thor? Bolty sounds like E.L. James’ nickname for Michael Bolton’s penis.”

“Oh my God!” Kurt screeched, scandalized. “Just for that, you’re buying hot fudge to go on top of that cheesecake. And I _still_ might make you sleep on the couch.”

“I think I traumatized myself a little on that one, honestly,” Blaine said as the images started flooding his brain. “I’ll be right back with your cheesecake, though!” He shrugged on his coat and started clopping down the stairs, still half-laughing at himself.

The trip to the little dessert shop that they had discovered a couple weeks ago practically happened on autopilot, and soon enough Blaine was pounding back up the stairs, balancing a box full of cheesecake and a jar of hot fudge sauce right under his chin. He slowed to a more respectable walk as he approached the loft door, allowing him to overhear Kurt through the little gap he’d left accidentally from not closing it all the way.

“Who’s my cute little boy?” Kurt asked in a baby-talk voice. “That’s right, Thor, it’s you. Papa’s frightening little god of thunder.”

Blaine peered through the gap and saw that Kurt had Thor on the kitchen table as he prepared dinner, something he’d sworn left, right, and center he would _never_ do, because “do you know how unsanitary that is, Blaine? What if we had to host a nice dinner party?”

Thor let out a sweet, warbling meow, prompting Kurt to turn so he could have one hand stirring their dinner and one hand petting the cat. “You’re such a little attention hog, Papa could never stay mad at you for long.”

Blaine finally had to slide the door open so his pealing laughter wouldn’t give him away. “I feel a little unloved right now, not gonna lie.”

“Blaine!” Kurt said, snatching his hand away from Thor. “God, didn’t you just leave?”

“Emalie wasn’t busy tonight, she had the food in my hand practically before I got in the shop,” Blaine said, sliding the dessert into the fridge. “I came back in plenty of time to hear you sweet talking our cat.”

“I can explain-”

“Nope, no need. You, Kurt Hummel, love Thor. Possibly more than you love me,” Blaine said, coming to wrap his arms around Kurt’s waist from behind.

“Impossible,” Kurt said, squirming in Blaine’s grip. When Blaine loosened his arms enough, he turned around and pressed a sweet kiss to Blaine’s lips. “For one, Thor would be a terrible make-out partner.”

“I do have that going for me,” Blaine conceded. “I like to think the opposable thumbs are a plus, too.”

“You have many qualities that I wouldn’t throw away for pussy, Blaine,” Kurt teased.

Blaine choked on his own saliva before bursting into belly laughter. “First you’re letting me name our cat after a superhero and now you’re making crude jokes,” he said when he regained his breath. “What’s next, going out in public in a muscle shirt and a backwards snapback?”

“Don’t even _joke_ about that, B, oh my God,” Kurt said, looking horrified. “You’d have to take me to the hospital, because I would clearly be suffering some kind of brain trauma.” He flipped the stove off and grabbed the colander, prompting Blaine to quickly set the table.

“I promise, if you ever stop dressing as fabulously as you currently do for no apparent reason, I’ll seek immediate medical attention,” Blaine said once they were served and seated, holding up his hand in a scout’s honor pledge. “This doesn’t mean you want me to stop talking fratty in bed, though, right?”

“God, no.”

“Good.” Blaine leaned in for one last kiss, enjoying the feeling of being so in love with such a wonderful man.

At least until the cat started eating his linguine.


	57. Protect and Defend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An anon on Tumblr told me to do Klaine owning the Avengers as cats after that last drabble, and I could NOT resist.

Kurt wasn’t sure why exactly he felt this way, but he was pretty sure his and Blaine’s cats were _not normal._

For one, were there any other households on the planet where nine cats lived in almost total harmony? (Well, eight cats usually did. Loki was kind of a sociopath.) And for two, they never got in the way when the villain of the week tried to destroy NYC. Rachel’s puppy had to be sedated whenever the rubble started pouring down, but Kurt and Blaine’s cats just disappeared. The first couple times it happened, the boys were worried sick, but since they all came home again afterwards, only a little banged-up from random wear-and-tear, the boys stopped fighting it and just let their cats roam.

“Blaine, have you seen Clint anywhere?” Kurt called out one morning. Aliens had attacked the day before, so everything was still a little out of place in the Anderson-Hummel loft.

“Have you checked on top of the cabinets? What about the drapes?” Blaine responded, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “I take it he’s not playing with that kitty archery set we got him.”

“It’s in his nest, but he’s not,” Kurt said, getting his own drink and plopping down next to Blaine at the kitchen table. “I swear, if people found out how often our cats just disappear on us, they’d probably report us to the ASPCA.”

“Yeah, Steve and Bucky are still missing, too. And Nat, of course, but she’ll come out whenever she feels like it,” Blaine said, shrugging. Their only female cat was rarely seen around the house, but she could be counted on to appear whenever she was hungry or felt like messing with one of the boys.

“Shit, please tell me Steve and Bucky didn’t fall into the freezer again,” Kurt said, panicking. The last time they’d fallen in there, Bucky had somehow lost a leg.

“I’ll check, you finish your coffee. I know Thor cannonballing around the house last night during that storm kept you up,” Blaine said.

“And Loki chasing him around and yowling the whole time didn’t help,” Kurt said, slugging down another sip of coffee. “I swear, that cat never behaves. And he’s disappeared again, too.”

“Well, I found two of our delinquents, at least,” Blaine said, pulling out a handsome blond tomcat and his shaggy, somewhat crazy-eyed, dark-furred buddy. “Boys. What have Papa and I told you about staying out of the freezer?”

The cats both meowed pitifully before slinking off, probably to go play-fight somewhere. Kurt wasn’t sure how they could be so close and yet fight like they hated each other, but then again, he himself was friends with Rachel, wasn’t he?

“Why did we take in nine cats again, B?” Kurt asked before yawning.

“Well, Tony needed that plate put into his chest, and Nick’s missing an eye,” Blaine said, taking a sip. “And Thor just seemed to find us during that storm, and he dragged Loki in by the scruff of his neck. Steve and Bucky were both too old to attract anyone else, and Clint and Natasha wouldn’t go anywhere without the other. And Bruce needed all that special training so he’d stop puffing up to three times his size whenever he got scared.”

“We’re like the foster home for the world’s weirdest cats,” Kurt said. “Next we’ll probably find one who can _fly_ or something.”

Just then, Nat burst into the room with her usual impeccable timing, running like a bat out of hell. When she noticed that Tony was still asleep in his cat bed, she slunk over to him silently and launched herself on top of him, startling him awake. As he growled and flailed, she flipped away and onto the couch, where she vibrated with what Kurt swore was kitty laughter.

“Our cats are idiots, but at least they’re cute idiots,” Kurt said, laughing so hard he nearly cried. Tony had gotten himself stuck between the wall and his bed, and was mewling pathetically, probably hoping someone would free him.

Blaine got up and took pity on Tony as Nat wandered over to Kurt, hopping into his lap and purring in satisfaction. She knew that Kurt thought her antics were hilarious, while Blaine was always afraid she might actually hurt one of the boys someday.

“Hey, babe-” Blaine cut himself off as the sirens began to wail, signaling another attack was imminent. The boys ran for their bathroom, which was on an inside wall and windowless, perfectly safe from attacks. They gathered up snacks and electronics on the way, well versed in what was necessary to get through a day like this, and let the cats scatter, knowing none of them would follow.

“I really hope our cats stay safe,” Kurt said once they were alone.

“They’ll be fine,” Blaine said, turning up the radio so they could hear any emergency instructions that might come along.

Meanwhile, the cats were exiting the apartment, wandering in a tight formation down to the secluded alleyway behind the building.

“I really hope Kurt and Blaine stay safe,” Steve said once he was back in his normal, human form. “They’re nice boys, and their wedding’s coming up!”

“They’ll be fine,” Natasha responded, checking her guns one last time. “They’ve got us protecting them, don’t they?”


	58. Secret Message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a picture I saw on hermioneclone's Tumblr.

Working as a barista was surprisingly routine, Blaine had discovered.

There were the usual suspects, who always came in at the same time and ordered the same drink everyday, there were the people who had apparently never been in a coffee shop in their lives and had to ask what the difference between a cappuccino and a Frappuccino was, and then there was always the one truly weird incident, like the man who paid for his latte with a roll of quarters that Blaine was pretty sure he’d pulled out of his underwear.

Blaine had washed his hands obsessively that day.

There was one last person, though, who didn’t fit into any of those categories. He could have been a regular, but he tended to mix up his order depending on the weather or the available flavorings, and he came in at different times, depending on his work schedule.

He was also _incredibly gorgeous._

Blaine lived for the days when Kurt would show up during his shift, usually flushed a pretty pale pink now that the weather was turning a bit colder. Kurt would always catch his eye and smile, too, since they’d had a few instances of pleasant chitchat while Blaine was finishing up his drink. They really had a lot in common, and they typically ended up talking over each other like they’d been friends for years.

“Hey, Tasha,” Kurt greeted as he stepped up to the counter. “Hi, Blaine.”

“What can we get for you today, Kurt?” Tasha asked from the register as Blaine popped his head out from behind the espresso machine and smiled.

“I’m thinking a venti white chocolate mocha is just what I need today,” Kurt said. “I spent a lot of my last shift digging ingredients out of the freezer.”

“Ugh,” Tasha said sympathetically. “Sucks, man. That’ll be four sixty-five.”

Kurt dug his wallet out of his diner uniform pants while Blaine got to work on his drink. As the espresso dripped, Blaine scribbled a quick message on the side of Kurt’s cup. He looked like he was having a rough day, and Blaine wanted to see him crack one of his genuine, scrunchy faced smiles.

“Here you are!” Blaine said once he’d gotten the lid on tight. “One venti white chocolate mocha.”

“Thanks, Blaine,” Kurt said with a grateful smile. He took a long swig, letting out an appreciative sigh before noticing Blaine’s surprise. “Secret message?”

Blaine just smiled and motioned for him to continue reading.

“And I’m following the arrow…caution: you are extremely hot,” Kurt read. He snorted before breaking into laughter. “Oh my God, you’re _such_ a dork.”

“But I’m _your_ dork,” Blaine said, pouting at Kurt playfully.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Kurt said, leaning over the counter to peck Blaine on the cheek. “Your shift’s done soon, right?”

“I could actually go punch out right now,” Blaine said, glancing at the clock above the bathroom hallway.

“Then I’ll wait for you out here, fiance,” Kurt said.

“I’ll be right back, fiance,” Blaine said, untying his apron and heading for the back room.

Sure, it didn’t take a lot of courage to leave a goofy message on his significant other’s coffee cup. That didn’t make it any less cute.


	59. Good Ideas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: It’s rainy and gross here so I propose boys out doing something (a fair or something maybe?) and getting caught in rain and deciding that since they’re already drenched why not cross a bucket list item off and reenact the kiss from The Notebook.

The sound of thunder rumbling nearby broke Kurt out of his lazy, well-fed stupor.

“Was that-” he cut himself off as rain started pouring down on them and their picnic. “Blaine!”

Blaine made an inquisitive hum before waking up fully, having been lulled to sleep by Kurt’s head rub and the warm weather. “Hey, when’d it start raining?”

“Oh, an hour ago,” Kurt said, giving Blaine his most cutting glare. “Really, Blaine?”

“Hey, you know naps screw me up,” Blaine said, sitting up. “Remember that time Sam convinced me I’d been asleep for a week?”

“I try not to,” Kurt said. “You left a bruise on my ass for a week after barging into our apartment and knocking me over while apologizing through your tears.”

“Hey, I kissed it and made it better! Multiple times, even,” Blaine said, flushing a soft pink. “You can’t tell me it didn’t work out for you in the end.”

Kurt jutted his chin out, not wanting Blaine to know he was right. He could still milk that incident for weeks if Blaine didn’t realize he wasn’t actually mad anymore. “C’mon, let’s pack up our stuff and go home. Our blanket’s already soaked and I’m afraid the dye on my shirt’s gonna run.”

“Sure, but it’s not worth it to rush,” Blaine said. “Getting a cab’s going to be hell with so many people trying to get out of the rain, and I really don’t want to deal with getting our picnic basket on public transport.”

“If this shirt stains my skin green, you’re sleeping on the couch for a week,” Kurt warned, but he slowed his frantic packing. Blaine had a point, and it actually wasn’t too terrible of a storm. The rain was a nice break from the August humidity, and it was more of a shower than a hurricane.

“Please, you wouldn’t last an hour before you came crawling after my body heat,” Blaine said, pitching in. “Bruce is comfy, but he’s not me.”

Kurt just whipped Blaine in the chest with one of their sodden napkins.

Once they’d gotten all of their supplies packed away, Blaine pushed himself to his feet and offered Kurt a gallant hand up. “Hey, you know what I’ve always wanted us to try?”

“What?” Kurt asked, nonplussed.

“Reenacting the kiss from _The Notebook,_ ” Blaine said. “I know it’s totally cliché, but-”

“Dibs on being Allie!” Kurt interrupted, dropping their basket back on the ground.

“So you’re okay with it,” Blaine said, bemused.

“If this works out, it’ll be the second-best plan you’ve ever had, Blaine Anderson,” Kurt said. He stepped back a couple paces. “This a good enough distance?”

“Yeah, I think if you got any farther you’d just knock me over,” Blaine said. “Ready when you are!”

Kurt noted where his best grip on Blaine might be, then broke into a measured jog, counting, one, two, three bounds-

-and then he was in the air, legs wrapped around Blaine’s waist for dear life and arms around his shoulders as usual. He bent down – _wow, thank God our height difference isn’t always this pronounced_ – and gave Blaine a deep kiss.

“Oh my God!” he squealed an eternity later, when Blaine spun them in a quick, triumphant circle as the kiss broke. “Blaine!”

“We’re gonna have to try that with the roles switched some time,” Blaine said, letting Kurt drop his legs back to the ground. “Not that that wasn’t fantastic, though.”

“Next time it rains,” Kurt said, still breathless. “See, I told you getting back on a regular workout schedule would be worth it.”

“I’ll never doubt you again,” Blaine teased, swinging their picnic basket onto his left arm and offering his right to Kurt. As they walked out of the park, he asked, “So what was my first-best idea, anyway?”

“Proposing to me, of course.”


	60. On Top

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheerio!Kurt/Mascot!Blaine

Kurt was pretty sure Coach Sylvester was out to get him. He'd missed one practice – _one!_ \- because his grandma was in the hospital, and now Coach was _insisting_ they bring a mascot on the sidelines to help them “energize those lardy idiots in the stands.”

And not just any mascot, either. No, she was demanding they get a shirtless ancient Greek warrior costume, because “Titans and Greeks are basically the same thing, and who the hell would know enough to call us out for it anyway? I'm amazed some of you can even tie your shoes.”

Not just any boy would be acceptable, either. Coach went out and enlisted _Blaine Anderson_ , of all people. Blaine Anderson, the school's star boxer and only other resident gay guy.

Blaine Anderson, who Kurt had been crushing on for _months._

It was halftime during the last game of the season, and the Cheerios were giving the crowd everything they had. Though it was mid-November and freezing, the squad members were covered in sweat and panting like it was July, jumping higher and clapping sharper than ever.

Or at least, most of them were. Kurt had been distracted all night by the sight of Blaine's gorgeously tanned skin, always kicking a beat behind or missing a clap. He was pretty sure Sue was going to murder him before the night was up.

“Everybody in pyramid formation!” Santana yelled over the last of the marching band's set. “Porcelain, you're on top. Sue wants us to prove we haven't been slacking off on our gym visits.”

“Jesus,” Kurt muttered. He got into position behind his bases and waited for them to crouch down and get the next layer of girls on top of them. Once everyone was in place but him, he began to ascend the pyramid carefully, trying not to lose his grip on everyone's sweaty backs and shoulders. He somehow made it to the top without falling, but before he could pop into a standing position, he lost his grip on Quinn's shoulder and starting tumbling backwards, flailing.

“Oh my G- _mmph_ ,” he shouted, feeling himself slam into something solid as he hit the ground.

“Ow,” a familiar, smooth voice came from underneath him.

“Blaine?” Kurt asked, rolling to the side as quick as he could. “What-”

“Sue had me backspotting,” Blaine explained, wheezing a little. “Something about me being 'the only one who could handle staring directly at that cute, pear-shaped ass Porcelain's got.'”

“She did not say that,” Kurt said, blushing a fierce, uniform-matching red.

“What, that sounds too unbelievable even for her?” Blaine said teasingly. “C'mon, the football team's about to run us over.” He stood up and offered a hand down to Kurt, who took it in a daze.

Kurt felt like they were running in slow motion the whole way to the sidelines, even though it was physically impossible. All he could focus on was the electric feeling Blaine's hand seemed to be sending through his entire body.

“I suppose I need to thank you for breaking my fall,” Kurt said after a moment. He didn't release Blaine's hand, and Blaine made no moves to pull away.

“What kind of mascot would I be if I let the prettiest Cheerio hurt himself after falling from the pyramid?” Blaine said, causing Kurt to choke a little.

“Still, you didn't have to be my landing pad,” Kurt said. Screwing up his courage, he punctuated his thanks with a tiny kiss to Blaine's cheek.

Or at least, he was aiming for Blaine's cheek. As Kurt was leaning down, Blaine turned his face, so Kurt caught him on the corner of his mouth instead.

“I'm so sorry!” Kurt sputtered as soon as his brain re-engaged and he realized where he'd kissed Blaine. “I didn't mean to-”

“I kind of did,” Blaine admitted. He squeezed Kurt's hand in his own. “I've had a crush on you since I transferred last winter, Kurt Hummel.”

“Well that's convenient, because I've had a crush on you since then, too,” Kurt said.

Blaine took that moment to lean in and connect their lips in a full-on kiss, heedless of the crowd and the still-going football game.

“Hummel! Anderson!” Sue yelled, making them spring apart. “I generously gave you lovestruck saps a moment to finally pull your heads out of your asses and get together. Now get back to cheering!”

“Yes, Coach!” both boys said in unison.

“To be continued?” Blaine asked once Sue was out of earshot.

“To be continued,” Kurt said, kissing Blaine's cheek before sprinting back to his place in the cheer formation.


	61. Manipulation

Blaine was getting a little worried about his fiance.

“Babe, what time is it?” he asked as he shuffled out to the living room, rubbing his eyes.

“Fine, yeah,” Kurt said distractedly from his laptop. He had a huge final tomorrow – or technically later that day, since Blaine saw that the kitchen clock said 3:24 am – and he had been studying like a fiend ever since his shift ended at the diner earlier that evening. He hadn't even made small talk with Blaine over dinner, choosing to skim one of the plays he was being tested on instead.

“Kurt. Your final's in like six hours. You really need to get some sleep before then,” Blaine said. He went and stood behind Kurt's chair, leaning down and putting his head on Kurt's shoulders.

“Once I finish rereading these notes,” Kurt said, trying to dislodge Blaine without looking away from the screen.

“Rereading? Baby, how many times have you gone over these notes?” Blaine asked, standing back upright.

“I think this is the fourth time?” Kurt said, eyes still flitting rapidly over his notes. “I just want to be one hundred percent sure that I've got everything memorized.”

“You've been studying this whole week, Kurt,” Blaine said, hoping he didn't sound patronizing. “I'm sure you could ace this exam in your sleep – and you might have to, if you stay up all night reading notes you've already covered.”

“But what if-”

“No,” Blaine said. He put his hands on Kurt's shoulders and started rubbing slowly, working out the hard knots of tension. “Honey, you need to sleep if you really want to do well on this exam. I've seen some studies-”

“Yes. _Studies._ Like I should be doing right no- _oooh,_ right there,” Kurt said. He slumped under Blaine's hands, muscles relaxing, and let out a noise that Blaine could only call a purr. “That feels so good, B.”

“And it will feel even better if you let me spoon you in our big, comfortable bed,” Blaine hinted teasingly. He kept working his hands over Kurt's most knotted spots, knowing that Kurt was powerless to resist any suggestions that came during massage time.

“How is you manipulating me into cuddling fair?” Kurt asked, closing his word processor and turning his laptop off.

“Because you do the same when you give me head rubs,” Blaine said, stepping back to allow Kurt room to push his chair out. “C'mon. I've been so cold sleeping all alone in our bed tonight.”

“You liar, you're always feverishly hot in bed,” Kurt said. He let out a long yawn.

“Ooh, tell me more,” Blaine teased, turning down Kurt's side of the bed before crawling onto his own.

“Not what I meant, you jerk.”

“Shhh. No more joking. Just sleep,” Blaine said, feeling exhausted all of a sudden.

When Kurt didn't respond, Blaine pushed himself up on one arm to see that he was already sleeping deeply, curled up in a loose fetal position. Blaine just smiled and cuddled in close, rubbing a hand lightly over Kurt's arm before succumbing to sleep himself.

(Kurt got an A on that final. Blaine didn't stop gloating for a week.)


	62. Adapting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> half-vampire!Kurt AU

This really wasn't the bombshell Blaine was expecting Kurt to drop when he'd said he had something to tell Blaine.

“You're a what?” Blaine asked, feeling his forehead furrow into deep ruts. “You can't be.”

“I assure you, Blaine, I'm half-vampire,” Kurt said. He squeezed Blaine's hand one last time before releasing it and sinking back into his end of the couch. “I won't hold it against you if you want to run screaming from the apartment.”

“But you almost pass out in terror every time you have to get your blood drawn at the doctor's,” Blaine said, not leaving his seat. “And you just ate garlic bread with me at that Italian place last night.”

“Are those really your biggest concerns right now, B?” Kurt asked, giving Blaine a judgmental look. “I just told you I sometimes need to drink blood to survive, and you're worried about my eating habits?”

“Drinking blood to survive is kind of the whole mythos behind vampirism, Kurt,” Blaine said. “So forgive me if that's not the weirdest thing you've admitted tonight.”

“I should've expected this,” Kurt muttered, so quiet Blaine almost couldn't hear him. “I'm dating the guy who reads _Star Wars_ fanfiction as bedtime stories, why didn't I see this coming?”

Blaine ignored Kurt's jab at his preferred reading material. “But seriously, shouldn't that garlic bread have killed you?”

“I'm only half-vamp, honey. It sometimes gives me indigestion, but I can handle a little garlic,” Kurt said. “And the fear of needles knows no species, to address your other concern.”

“Good to know,” Blaine said, fascinated. “Anything else I need to know? Should I expect to see bats flying around our apartment more often?”

“Oh my God, I hope not,” Kurt said, shuddering. “You'll hear me shrieking in Ohio if bats end up infesting the place.”

“See, this is why it's hard for me to believe you're even part vampire, babe,” Blaine said. He reached out and squeezed Kurt's hand comfortingly. “Aren't bats your brethren or something?”

“ _Vermin_ are not my brethren, thank you very much,” Kurt said acerbically. “And before you ask, no, I also don't sparkle. I'm just a little paler, a little stronger, and a little quicker than normal humans. If I was actually coordinated, I might have been a decent track star.”

“But you hate running.”

“Okay, if I was actually coordinated and didn't think running was the most pointless form of exercise,” Kurt allowed. There was a moment of silence before he continued quietly, “So you're really okay with this?”

“What, with my unique, amazing fiance being a little more unique and amazing than I'd previously known? Of course,” Blaine said, scooting in and pressing a kiss to Kurt's cheek. “I love you, Kurt. It'd take a lot more than finding out you're part creature of the night to change that.”

“I am so lucky to have you,” Kurt said. He gave Blaine a kiss that started gentle but quickly intensified, neither of them wanting to break free until they absolutely had to breathe. “Hey, would you mind if I grabbed a drink?” Kurt asked when he'd caught his breath. “It's been a couple weeks since my last fix, and I'm really feeling drained.”

“Do you have blood somewhere in here?” Blaine asked. He looked around the living room, thinking Kurt might have been hiding his stash in plain sight.

“I've been keeping it in a cooler in Rachel's old room, but now that you know, I might just leave it in the fridge, if that's okay,” Kurt said tentatively.

“Oh no, that's totally fine, sweetheart!” Blaine said. “I'll be able to tell it's not tomato juice, though, right?”

“I'll show you what the pouches look like,” Kurt said, getting up. He quickly retrieved his stash from its hiding place, and pulled out a juice box-looking carton for Blaine to see. “They'll be in these unmarked white containers, totally unobtrusive.”

“How do you drink out of that?” Blaine asked. “There's not a straw.”

Kurt quirked an eyebrow. “Fangs, Blaine. I use my fangs.”

“Wait, you have those?”

“Of course I do, B. See?” Kurt held his mouth open and got a look of concentration on his face, and sure enough, two small fangs elongated out of his normal incisors. “They're not very big, because I'm only half vamp, but they do the job.” He bit into his blood box and started sucking, letting out a sigh of contentment after a moment.

Blaine couldn't hold back his coo. “You're so adorable.”

“Blaine. I am literally drinking blood right now.”

“But your fangs are so tiny and you've got the vampire equivalent of a juice box and I just kind of want to cuddle you right now.” Blaine could tell he was sporting a broad, goofy grin, but he just couldn't help himself.

“...I don't even know what to say to that.” Kurt looked like he was afraid for Blaine's sanity.

“Just come here and snuggle with me while we watch _Eclipse_ for the billionth time,” Blaine said, patting the couch invitingly. “You know you want to.”

“This really isn't how I thought tonight would go,” Kurt said, plopping down next to Blaine and slurping up the last of his blood box.

“You and me both, honey,” Blaine said. “But I can't say I dislike it.”

“Neither can I.” Kurt tucked his feet up next to him and placed his head on Blaine's shoulder, his default position for movie snuggles.

Some things never changed.


	63. Harbor

Kurt had some very distinctive signs that showed he was having a bad day, and at this point in their relationship, Blaine knew them all.

He could tell that a day had just gone a little awry if he came home to freshly baked goodies and a cheery, relaxed Kurt – his stressbaking worked out all his tension, and then the sweet snacks he had lifted his blood sugar and helped him focus on whatever he needed to do.

A day was bad but not terrible if he came home to a tense, fidgety Kurt. Then Blaine knew to just let Kurt vent his frustrations while he went about his evening routine, and by the end of Kurt's rant, he'd be feeling better and Blaine would have dinner ready, and the night would pick up from there.

A day was truly awful if Kurt was silent, sweater-clad, and withdrawn when Blaine slid the loft door open. If Kurt retreated into his headspace and tried to block out the world with his bulkiest sweaters, then he was seriously upset.

The latter sight was what greeted Blaine when he got home from a lunch shift at the diner that day.

Kurt was sitting with his knees to his chest on one end of the couch, staring off into space quietly without even his phone nearby to provide distraction. His thickest, most oversized gray sweater was covering his torso, and the sleeves were pulled up over his hands – or at least, Blaine thought they were. Kurt's hands were hidden in his lap, so Blaine couldn't get a great view of them through his legs. When the door rattled shut behind Blaine, Kurt turned and looked at him, his gaze sad and a little desperate.

Blaine didn't even bother saying anything. He shucked off his jacket and shoes quickly, and went to sit next to Kurt on the couch, reaching out and wrapping an arm around Kurt's shoulders comfortingly.

Kurt responded by climbing into Blaine's lap and pressing his face into Blaine's neck. The deep breath he took when his face was finally hidden was the loudest noise either of them had made so far, and Blaine thought he could hear Kurt choke down a sob as he exhaled.

“Is there something I can do, baby?” Blaine asked softly, not wanting to disturb the fragile calm he felt settling over his fiance.

“Can you just hold me for a minute?” Kurt said, not lifting his head. “I need to remember that I'm not as alone as I feel sometimes.”

“Of course I can,” Blaine said, tightening his embrace. “I'm never too busy to just hold you for a moment when you need it.”

Kurt burrowed deeper into Blaine's hold and took another breath. “I don't think I tell you often enough how grateful I am that you're mine.”

“Don't worry, I know,” Blaine said. “I mean, not that I don't enjoy hearing it, but I know. I always know.”

“I love you.” Kurt sat up and kissed Blaine for a moment before just resting their foreheads together.

“Fearlessly and forever?” Blaine teased lovingly.

“Fearlessly and forever.”

The way Kurt's eyes sparkled when he repeated Blaine's sentence let Blaine know that his fiance was already on the way to feeling better.


	64. Professional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off this Tumblr text post: *listens to ur heart with a stethoscope* *takes ur temperature* *flashes a light in ur eyes* yep…. it’s exactly as i expected…. ur really cute….. *writes a prescription for lots of kisses*

“Can you take a deep breath for me?”

Kurt complied, feeling a little silly. Blaine had insisted on giving him a home check-up after he complained of a sore throat and a stuffy nose, so he was sitting on the couch next to Blaine as he put him through his paces.

“I thought I talked you out of being a doctor,” he joked, breaking into a hacking cough afterward.

“I'm just making sure we don't need to take you to a professional,” Blaine said, voice light but eyes full of concern. “That cough really doesn't sound good.”

“It doesn't particularly _feel_ good, either,” Kurt muttered, giving one last weak cough. “God, did this really need to happen right before finals week?”

“Can you open your mouth and say _ahh?_ ” Blaine asked, ignoring Kurt's (admittedly rhetorical) question. “I wanna make sure you don't have anything coating your throat.”

“ _Ahh,_ ” Kurt said. “You know, I think most doctors don't use the flash on their iPhones as their light source.”

“Shh,” Blaine said, giving Kurt a teasing glare. “Resting your voice will help you get better faster.”

“Uh huh,” Kurt said, skeptical. “That's totally the reason you want me to stop talki- ack! Blaine!” He started laughing amidst his coughs as Blaine ran his fingers over Kurt's ticklish sides. “Stoooop!”

“Are you gonna listen to my advice now?” Blaine said, stopping his tickles when Kurt nodded. “Good, because I have my official diagnosis.”

“Am I going to live, doctor?” Kurt asked, batting his eyelashes melodramatically.

“I think you have a severe case of Being-A-Total-Cutie-itis, with a minor cold on the side,” Blaine said solemnly, though Kurt noticed his eyes sparkling with glee.

“Oh really,” Kurt said drily. “Can you prescribe me anything?”

“For the cold, I recommend chicken soup and Sudafed,” Blaine said, putting a hand on Kurt's knee. “Your other condition can only be mitigated by a lot of kisses.”

“Will you provide those, doctor? I can only trust a trained medical professional to give me such a delicate prescription,” Kurt said, deciding to just play along with Blaine's ridiculous diagnosis. His fiance was weird, but it was a cute kind of weird.

“Gladly,” Blaine said, leaning in and pressing a sweet kiss to Kurt's lips. “You'll need one of these multiple times a day to stay healthy.”

“Such a hardship,” Kurt teased. “Is there any way I can thank you for helping me out?

“You might have to marry me,” Blaine said, grinning. “I'm devoting so much time to your case that it's really only fair.”

“Well, if I _have_ to,” Kurt said, smiling and twisting his hand so his ring flashed in the light.

“I love you so much,” Blaine said, suddenly sincere.

“I love you too.” Kurt leaned in for another kiss before hoisting himself up from the couch. “I'm gonna go hop in the shower, see if the steam helps drain my head some.”

“I'll heat you some soup and pull up _A Cinderella Story_ on Netflix,” Blaine said, pushing himself up as well.

“You're the best.”

“I know.” Blaine shot Kurt a wink as he walked over to the kitchen and started rustling through the cabinets.

Kurt just shook his head in fond exasperation before hauling off to the shower. Blaine may be a goofball, but he was _Kurt's_ goofball, and that was the most important thing.


	65. Scary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Badboy!Kurt/nerd!Blaine Halloween drabble.

“Are you sure you wanna do this, babe?”

“It's the Lima Memorial haunted house, Blaine, not a portal to Hell,” Kurt said, raising one pierced eyebrow at his boyfriend. “I think I'll be okay.”

“You also made me kill the spider in your bathroom the other week because you were too scared to go near it,” Blaine said, skepticism undiluted by the thick lenses of his glasses.

“It was the size of a house!”

“Kurt, it was smaller than my pinky fingernail.”

“Clearly you need to go to the optometrist when we're done here,” Kurt teased. “Are you even safe to drive me home?”

“Hey, if you want to ditch me and ride home in the same car as Finn and Rachel, by all means, be my guest,” Blaine said.

Kurt shuddered as they reached the front of the line, dismayed by the thought of being stuck in a car with those two. “Nothing's scarier than that thought. Compared to the idea of being subjected to Finna and Rachel's antics for an hour and a half, this haunted house is going to be a cakewalk.”

“You may have a point there,” Blaine conceded.

“Are you ready for the fright of your life?” the mummy manning the entrance asked them. When the boys nodded, he gestured for them to go ahead, letting out a low, evil cackle as they wandered into the darkened warehouse.

The moment his eyes adjusted to the near-total blackness, Kurt regretted agreeing to go into the haunted house. He could see only faint shapes and a vague glint of gel off Blaine's head in the meager lighting, and he couldn't tell if the sound of scrabbling, rat-like footsteps he heard was a recording or if there were actual rats in the building.

Just as Kurt was leaning in to whisper a snide remark to Blaine, a voice hissed “Boo!” directly into his ear, and he let out a loud, high-pitched scream.

“Baby, what-” Blaine began, but Kurt buried his head into Blaine's shoulderblades and clapped a hand over his mouth to cut him off.

“Just get me out of here,” Kurt whimpered quietly, feeling himself shake. He dropped his hand from Blaine's mouth and tried to focus on keeping his breathing under control.

Blaine listened, walking a little faster through the maze of rooms. He commented on the décor or the costumes every so often - “Oooh, nice cape, Dracula!” or “Wow, that's a really impressive headstone,” - but he also didn't linger anywhere, preventing any of the other cast members from adding to Kurt's fear.

Kurt, for his part, tried to keep himself from stepping on the backs of Blaine's oxfords and didn't let himself whine whenever Blaine paused even briefly with an “After you!” or “Sorry, just lemme get a better look at this scene for a sec.”

After what felt like an eternity, Blaine finally said, “Hey, Kurt, we're at the exit.”

Kurt lifted his head from Blaine's (quite cozy) sweater vest and blinked a couple times, eyes re-adjusting to the late evening sun. “Oh thank God.”

“Are you all right?” Blaine asked, concerned. He opened his arms and Kurt stepped into them, wanting a proper hug.

“I lied. Riding home with Finn and Rachel would be far less terrifying than that monstrosity.”

“Babe, you didn't even see one full room before screeching and hiding in my shoulder,” Blaine said. Kurt could tell he was holding in a laugh. “How do you know how terrifying it was?”

“Blaine, that ghost came out of nowhere! For all I know, that place was _actually_ haunted!” Kurt said, a bit too hysterical for his liking.

“Honey,” Blaine said patiently. “That wasn't a real ghost. It wasn't even a real cast member. Puck sneaked in behind us and scared you – I saw his mohawk out of the corner of my eye.”

Kurt was silent for a moment. “Are you fucking kidding me? I'm going to kick his ass into next week, oh my God.”

“Sure you are, tough guy,” Blaine said, smirking. “You gonna do it before or after we go home and cuddle while watching _The Sound of Music_?”

“I hate you.”

“Are you gonna need to hide again when the Nazis show up?”

“We're not dating anymore.”

“Baroness Schrader's plot to keep Maria and Georg apart won't frighten you too much, will it?”

“You're such an asshole.”

“But I'm _your_ asshole,” Blaine said, fluttering his eyelashes melodramatically.

Kurt burst into cackling laughter. “I don't know if that's really an endearment you want to go with, B.”

“It made you laugh, didn't it?” Blaine said with a grin. “That's all I was aiming to do.”

“You're too cute,” Kurt said, leaning in and kissing Blaine. “Even when you're being a jerk.”

“And I think you're wonderful, especially when you're cowering into my shoulder like a newborn baby with pink hair and a leather jacket,” Blaine teased, kissing away Kurt's insincere scowl. “You wanna get doughnuts and cider before we go home?”

“Are you really asking me that, B? It's like you don't even know me at all.” Kurt took Blaine's outstretched hand in his own and let him cut a path to the little wooden shack where the concessions were being sold. He didn't know what he'd done to get a ridiculous, adorable boyfriend like Blaine, but he wasn't complaining.


	66. Under My Umbrella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The basics of this AU: intimate embraces lead to soulmate Connections. Two-armed hugs, for instance, are a way to find one's soulmate.

“Fuck,” Kurt said, unable to keep the curse in. “I thought rain wasn't even supposed to be in the forecast today!” He stood still in the middle of the little vestibule at the main doors of McKinley, peering out at the somewhat ominous looking gray skies. “Maybe it'll pass.”

He pulled out his phone and started flicking through Instagram to kill some time, idly liking photos and leaving encouraging comments on Mercedes' videos of herself singing, but even after the ten or fifteen minutes that took, the skies were still pouring down rain. It might even have been raining harder.

“God, am I really gonna have to go out in this?” Kurt whined, glad no one was around to hear him.

Or so he thought.

“Would you like to share my umbrella?” a semi-familiar voice asked.

Kurt turned slightly to see resident geek Blaine Anderson behind him, bulging messenger bag over one shoulder and flamboyant pink umbrella in hand. “Oh, no, I wouldn't want to take you out of your way,” Kurt said, ever polite.

“It's really not a problem,” Blaine said. “You drive that souped-up Navigator, right? I'm only a couple spaces away, if I remember right.” He shot Kurt a sincere smile, prompting a couple butterflies to start duking it out in Kurt's stomach.

“Yeah, that's me,” he said lamely. “You sure you don't mind?”

“Of course not,” Blaine said, and he was really gonna have to stop smiling like that. “Besides, that sweater looks like a pain to dry out.”

“You don't even wanna know,” Kurt said, taking a couple steps closer to Blaine. “Thanks for doing this.”

“It's my pleasure,” Blaine said, unfurling his umbrella. “Okay, one, two, three!” He pushed open the door and scurried out into the rain, Kurt sticking as close as he could. 

After a couple of steps, Kurt finally said “I don't think this is working!”

“I'm sorry, I thought my umbrella was bigger than this,” Blaine said, pitching his voice a bit louder to be heard over the rain. “You can just take it if you want, I don't mind getting a little wet.”

“A little wet? Blaine, it's practically monsooning out here,” Kurt said judgmentally. “How about we just get closer? I know we're not best friends or anything, but I don't want you dying of pneumonia on my conscience forever.”

“If you're comfortable, I'm comfortable,” Blaine said. He scooted in a bit closer. “How do you wanna do this?”

“I'll put my arm around your shoulders, you go around my waist,” Kurt said. “You good?” he asked when they were both in position.

Blaine nodded. “It feels good to have some more body heat, not gonna lie.”

Kurt nodded too, absently noting that it didn't quite feel like body heat to him. It was more...electric? He didn't have a good word for it.

The boys kept walking, nearing Kurt's Navigator easily now that they weren't jockeying for position under Blaine's umbrella. When they were a couple feet away, Kurt accidentally slipped on a puddle that was deeper than it looked, causing him to flail a little in panic. Before he could fall, though, Blaine dropped the umbrella and caught him around the waist, managing to yank him upright again.

The Connection was instant.

Kurt felt a sensation like lightning running through his veins, making his breath hitch and his adrenaline soar. The rain was still pouring around them, but all he noticed was Blaine.

Blaine who had a golden glow around him.

Blaine who was staring into his eyes like the rest of the world had floated away in the storm.

Blaine who was apparently Kurt's soulmate.

“Oh my God,” Kurt breathed, hoping he was audible over the pounding of his heart.

“We're-” Blaine said, sounding choked. “You're my-”

“Soulmate,” Kurt said. “We're soulmates.” He reached up and cupped Blaine's cheek before pressing their foreheads together, allowing them to bask in the peace that came after a Connection.

They were quiet for what felt like days before Blaine spoke again. “Uh, do you wanna go get a coffee? Or, I dunno, some ice cream or something? I want to get to know you better.”

“Coffee sounds great,” Kurt said, pulling away enough to shoot Blaine a radiant smile. “You know where the Lima Bean is?” At Blaine's nod, he continued, “I'll meet you there, soulmate.”

“Sounds good, soulmate,” Blaine said, smiling back.

Kurt couldn't resist. He leaned in and pressed a tiny kiss to Blaine's cheek, almost where the corner of his mouth began. “Can't wait.”

Blaine just stood there, stunned.

“C'mon, honey, you've got to get in your car,” Kurt said, trying not to laugh. When Blaine finally started moving, he hopped into his own car, letting out a quick squeal after he shut the door firmly behind him.

As he pulled out, he noticed Blaine was sitting in his own driver's seat, one hand against the spot Kurt had kissed. It was the cutest thing Kurt had ever seen.


	67. Love/Hate Relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fake boyfriends!AU

Blaine huffed out a deep sigh as he split off from his friends and headed down the long, alcove-lined hall that led to his stage combat class.

 _Maybe I'll get lucky and he won't be there today,_ Blaine thought. _Or maybe he'll have laryngitis and I'll be able to get through this class without wanting to tear my hair out. God, Hummel is just so – so – uptight. Arrogant._

 _Attractive?_ a mental voice that sounded suspiciously like Sam's added.

 _No!_ Blaine thought, shaking his head like he could physically dislodge that thought. _Kurt Hummel is not attractive. He's a jerk who needs to-_

What Kurt needed to do was lost when a hand darted out and dragged Blaine closer to a warm, semi-familiar chest. “Hey, sweetheart,” a voice cooed. “There you are! You're kinda late today.”

Blaine just froze as Kurt pulled him in for a quick kiss and a lingering hug.

“Just play along,” Kurt whispered into Blaine's ear. He had arranged the hug so Blaine was in between him and the smug-looking guy he must have been talking to. “I'll explain once we've gotten Meerkat Face over there to fuck off.”

“I'm sorry, baby,” Blaine said when they broke apart, confused but hoping this would get him some blackmail material. “The caf was ridiculously crowded today – I couldn't even get you one of those chocolate chip cookies you love!”

“Oh my God, you two are _disgusting_ ,” Meerkat Face said. “Forget about my proposition, Kurt. Listening to your sickly-sweet banter is a total boner kill.” He pushed off the wall he was leaning against and left, looking revolted.

“Well he was a charmer,” Blaine said, taking a couple steps away from Kurt. “Anyways, would you care to explain how we began dating all of a sudden?”

“Oh, can it, Anderson,” Kurt said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Smythe has been hitting on me for _weeks_ now, even after I told him I was waiting for my boyfriend to walk me to class today, and you were the first person to come down this hallway. I had no other options.”

“Glad to know I'm your first choice,” Blaine said. “You'd think you'd treat your sweetheart a little better than that.”

“Bite me,” Kurt said, glaring at Blaine. “I'm at least grateful you weren't one of those gossiping peons that hovers around Rachel, but that's about all I can say. Have you ever kissed a guy before, Anderson?”

“I'm sorry for not kissing like a porn star when I'm surprised,” Blaine shot back, rolling his eyes. “Christ, Hummel, you could at least say thank you.”

“ _Thank you,_ Blaine, for being less disappointing than Sebastian would have been,” Kurt said, tone dripping with sugar. “I'm so grateful and amazed.”

“Alright, that's it,” Blaine said, at the end of his rope. He leaned in and planted a deep kiss on Kurt, cupping his face in his hands.

When Blaine thought about that kiss later, he honestly couldn't say why he did it. To shut Kurt up, definitely. Because he lost control, for sure. Maybe even because he'd enjoyed the first kiss they'd had, although he never would've admitted it.

At that moment, though, all Blaine could process was the sensation of warm lips against his own and the tingles that shot through his veins when Kurt got over his shock and started kissing back. Blaine held the kiss as long as he could, angling Kurt's face to get the best position, before finally stepping back when his lungs were finally threatening to give out.

“I, uh. Whoa,” Kurt said, stumbling back slightly. “That – that was-”

“Am I still a bad kisser?” Blaine asked. He couldn't stop himself from smirking at Kurt's discombobulation.

“If you don't do that again, I'm going to throw out the spare tub of hair gel you keep in your combat locker,” Kurt threatened. “I've been waiting for something like this to happen for _months,_ Anderson.”

“You what?” Blaine said, totally stunned.

“Did you not notice that I only snark at you in class, Blaine?” Kurt said, raising an eyebrow judgmentally. “For me, that's flirting.”

“I'm sorry for not realizing you substitute insults for kindness,” Blaine said, rolling his eyes again. “Forgive me for thinking you function _like a normal human._ ”

“Just shut up and kiss me, Anderson.”

“You are _so_ demanding,” Blaine said before complying.

“We're going to dinner this weekend. Saturday night. Pick me up at 8,” Kurt said when they broke apart again.

“Jesus, did you never learn to ask nicely as a kid?” Blaine said, but he couldn't hold in a smile. “Fine. Find my number in the student directory and text me your address. Wear something pretty.”

“I'm rubbing off on you,” Kurt said with a smile of his own. He bent down and grabbed his satchel before offering his spare arm to Blaine.

“Oooh, dirty,” Blaine said, linking his arm in Kurt's and heading off to class. “But maybe I'll rub off on you, too.”

“You are _such_ a dweeb,” Kurt said, sighing. “I don't understand why I'm attracted to you.”

“Because I'm an excellent fake boyfriend?”

“That you are. I suppose I could probably do worse.”

“Be still my heart!” Blaine said, faking a swoon. “That was the best compliment I've ever received.”

Kurt just glared at Blaine as they reached their classroom and heard the instructor bark, “Hummel! Anderson! Get your asses changed and ready to fight!”

If asked, he would deny it, but Blaine couldn't help but shoot Kurt tiny, happy smiles every time their eyes met that day.


	68. Anchor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Blaine experiencing extreme anxiety/panic attack at school or something and Kurt is the only one who can help. Thank you:)
> 
> Panic attack tw, obviously, though I don't think it gets _bad_ bad.

"God, I just want midterms to be _over_ already," Sam said, heading down the stairs after the last bell rang. "All I can think about is studying and grades and college, and I just can't deal with it anymore."

Blaine nodded - at least, he hoped he nodded - as the assorted Glee kids they were walking with all chimed in with their agreements. He was more concerned about how his heart was racing in his chest, since he wasn't exactly doing anything strenuous. He took the McKinley stairs like fifteen times a day.

As he wiped his weirdly sweaty palms on the sides of his chinos, he kept on fixating on his upcoming physics exam, turning over every possible scenario in his mind and ignoring his friends' conversation. _What if I forget my index card at home that day? What if I sleep through my alarm? Oh my God, what if I get sick that day? Mr. Thomas already said he won't reschedule. What if-_

Blaine gasped, feeling like his throat was closing, prompting Santana to turn and give him an odd look.

"Feelin' okay, short stack?" she asked, tone a mixture of annoyance and concern.

"Can- can't breathe," Blaine said, vision going fuzzy at the edges. He broke away from the group and slumped against the wall, fighting to stay upright. _Shit. I didn't want this today._

"Someone go get Hummelina, _stat,_ " Santana barked, glaring at the group. Blaine couldn't see if anyone listened to her - his vision was going darker and darker. "Anderson, don't you fucking pass out on me," she said, voice getting closer to him. "C'mon, let's get you sitting down."

Blaine felt hands press gently on his shoulders and help slide him to the floor. He sat there quietly with his eyes shut, trying to even out his breathing, but he couldn't hold onto a rhythm. He felt like he was drifting, like he'd never recover from this sensation, like his whole life was just going to be one massive chaotic spiral.

What felt like years passed before he heard loud footsteps sprinting closer and someone else leaving.

"Blaine?" He knew that voice. "Blaine, sweetheart, it's okay. Everything will be okay."

 _It will?_ he thought, hearing something thud down next to him.

"We're gonna take some deep breaths together, alright?" the voice continued. "Can I hold your hand so I can squeeze it to keep time?"

"Mhm," Blaine said weakly. He needed the physical contact. It just felt important to him at the moment.

"Okay. Let's breathe in for one-two-three-four, and hold it now for three-four-five-six-seven, and breathe out-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight," the voice said. A hand that must have belonged to the owner of the voice squeezed Blaine's own hand in rhythm with the counting.

"Kurt," Blaine said, glad he could finally recognize who was there.

"Yeah, honey, I'm here," Kurt said. "Let's do the breathing again, okay?" He led them through the breathing sequence a few more times before Blaine felt his heartbeat slow down. "How are you feeling now, B?"

"Better," Blaine said, opening his eyes. "Kind of. I'm at least not going to have a full-blown panic attack on the floor now."

"That's good," Kurt said, smiling at Blaine. There was a relieved look in his eyes. "What else can I do to help?"

"Can we just go home?" Blaine asked, cuddling into Kurt's side, homophobes be damned. "I need to get away from here for a while."

Kurt wrapped an arm around Blaine's waist and pulled him closer. "Of course, sweetie." He pushed himself off the floor, wiping his hand on the seat of his pants before offering it to Blaine. "You know, if you wanted to snuggle, you could've just asked me."

"But this was so much more dramatic," Blaine said, cracking a tiny but genuine smile. "Where's the flair in just asking you?"

Kurt heaved a huge, fake sigh. "What am I going to do with you, Blaine Anderson?"

"Take me home and love me forever?" Blaine suggested, batting his eyes at Kurt.

"If I have to," Kurt said, giving Blaine's forehead a quick smooch. "There are worse fates."

"That was the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Oh, hush, you know I love you."

"I love you, too," Blaine said, pressing a kiss to Kurt's cheek. "Now let's go, I want to be able to get through at least one full movie before your dad gets back from work."

"Wait, but you said-"

"I feel most at home at your home," Blaine said simply.

Kurt got a little misty-eyed. "You're something else, you know that?"

"Hey, so are you. You remembered all the things I told you about how to stop panic attacks, and that was _months_ ago, Kurt!"

"I'm not gonna let anything harm you, Blaine. Not if I can stop it," Kurt said ferociously.

Blaine pulled Kurt in for a hard, fast kiss. "I love you. Thanks for being my anchor."

"Thanks for reminding me to float," Kurt responded, and that was that.


	69. The Best of Times

“I cannot _believe_ you did this to me,” Kurt huffed, feeling betrayed.

“I'm sorry, baby, but the deadline was coming up, and-”

“So you felt the need to _blindfold_ me and take me on a surprise visit to the doctor's office?” Kurt nearly shrieked.

For once, Blaine's wounded-puppy eyes had little effect on Kurt. “I know I shouldn't have tricked you, but you know we have to get our flu shots by November first or we get put on academic probation,” he said. “It's October twenty-fourth, honey. We can't really put it off much longer.”

“There are still seven whole days until the deadline!” Kurt said, trying to sidle nonchalantly back towards the door. “There's plenty of time to procrastinate. Aren't college kids supposed to leave everything til the last minute?”

“Do you really want to have to come in on Halloween to get a shot?” Blaine asked, quirking an eyebrow and snagging Kurt's wrist, anchoring him. “I'm sure seeing the nurses dressed as Princess Anna or Luna Lovegood will make you feel super confident in their abilities.”

“...I hate you,” Kurt said, unable to think of a good rejoinder. He really didn't want to see someone dressed as a cartoon character coming at him with a needle – that could only cause some ridiculous nightmares.

“No, you don't,” Blaine said, leaning up on his toes to press a kiss to Kurt's cheek. “Besides, imagine how great we'll feel when we don't get sick this winter.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Kurt grumbled. “I'd feel better if I didn't have to get stabbed at all.”

“It'll take like fifteen seconds, babe,” Blaine said, leading them up to the check-in desk, where a receptionist was failing miserably at keeping a grin off her face at the boys' banter. “We'll be done here before you can even finish plotting what you wanna get at the craft store to make your Halloween costume.”

“You'd better be right,” Kurt said, signing his name on the clipboard with a flourish. “Or I'm hiding all the leftover candy somewhere you can't reach it.”

Blaine's look of genuine distress at that did wonders to brighten Kurt's mood.

_________________________ 

“Blaine, I'm re-mad at you,” Kurt said the second he heard the loft door slide open the next afternoon.

“Wait, what?” Blaine said. When Kurt looked up at him, he had a look on his face like he'd been hit with a baseball bat.

“That stupid flu shot you made me get yesterday made my arm so sore that I can't finish sewing the trim onto my Elphaba costume,” Kurt said, clenching the offending shirt in his fist. “I'm going to look terrible, and it's all your fault!”

“Babe, you could use a white trash bag as a ghost costume and still be the best-looking man I know,” Blaine said, coming to sit next to Kurt at their kitchen table. “I'm sorry your arm's sore, though. I didn't realize that could happen.”

“It's all swollen at the injection site, too,” Kurt said. He pouted at Blaine melodramatically. “I'm a wreck.”

“Show me?” 

Kurt shucked off his sweater carefully, wincing as he moved his sore left arm. “I'm probably going to need it amputated,” he joked, holding his arm out for Blaine to see.

“I know just what to do,” Blaine said. He bent down and smacked a kiss to Kurt's arm, making a loud, obnoxious “mwah!” noise as he made contact. “I'm pretty sure kissing it and making it all better is pretty sound science.”

“I'm suddenly wishing you'd gone to med school after all,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes.

“I thought you wanted me to follow my dreams?” Blaine said, giving Kurt a mock-hurt look. “And here I was prepared to help you out with your costume, too.”

Kurt leaned in and kissed Blaine soundly. “Does your technique also work on hurt feelings?” he teased, smiling at how Blaine's eyes had glazed over.

“The preliminary tests point to yes,” Blaine said, still a bit stunned. “If you're willing to help me test that theory more later, I'll give you some help with your costume now.”

“Deal,” Kurt said, smiling. Blaine's antics were dorky, but they were also pretty cute. “What's your plan, doctor?”

“You just need to finish adding this trim to your sleeves?” Blaine asked, looking at what Kurt had completed so far.

“Yeah.”

“I can do that,” Blaine said, taking the shirt from Kurt's hands. “I don't hand-alter all my own clothes like some fiances I could mention, but I can do basic stitching.”

“I'm gonna have to keep you around, aren't I?” Kurt said, relaxing back into his seat. “You can cook, you can clean, you can help with my fashion projects.”

“And I kill all the bugs,” Blaine said. “What would you do without me?”

“Let's hope I never find out.” Kurt smiled at Blaine, who was sewing away diligently. He really would always be grateful for Blaine's presence in his life, whatever their relationship status may be. 

He wouldn't lie, though – them being fiances was definitely preferable in his world. The only better option he could foresee was them being husbands, which would come soon enough. Until then, Kurt was going to enjoy their present, especially since copious amounts of candy were in their immediate future.


	70. Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got prompted to write for this artwork: http://whatstheproblembaby.tumblr.com/post/100936147504/tacogrande-limpnoodledoodles-just-a-couple

“Can I look yet?” Kurt asked, standing in the living room with his hands over his eyes. Blaine had bought Charlie's Halloween costume without showing Kurt what it was, saying only that it would definitely coordinate with their own looks and it needed to be a surprise so Kurt could fully appreciate it.

Kurt was pretty sure this really meant he would hate it and Blaine didn't want him to have time to return it, but that was beside the point.

“Let me just get in the best light...okay... _now!_ ” Blaine said, and Kurt opened his eyes, revealing-

“A bat?” he said, blinking rapidly like it might clear his already perfect vision. “You got our son a bat costume for Halloween? Blaine!”

“What?” Blaine asked, bouncing their giggling baby. “I told you he'd coordinate with us!”

“Blaine, we're already pushing it by going out dressed as vampires!” Kurt said. “Putting our son in a bat costume is basically daring the neighbors to come run us out of here with pitchforks and torches.”

“Okay, one, you know that wouldn't actually harm us,” Blaine said, rolling his eyes. “And two, I've told you, darling, no one around here suspects we're _actually_ vampires. We've gotten really good at blending in over the years!”

“Really? Then why did Mrs. McTavish leave all that fresh garlic bread outside our door the other day? And I saw Mr. Stevens out looking for sharp sticks yesterday morning!” Kurt said, tapping his foot impatiently. He knew he sounded relatively paranoid, but living over four hundred years had taught him a thing or two about assuming the coast was clear. He still had a scar from getting staked in the arm back in the 1880s, after all.

“Mrs. McTavish gives food to everyone, Kurt,” Blaine said, shifting Charlie in his arms. “She gave the Prakashes banana bread last week! And Mr. Stevens said Tommy needed sticks for a diorama he's making for school, I asked when I was bringing Charlie back from daycare. We're totally fine, sweetheart.”

“Are you sure?” Kurt asked, feeling the fight drain from him. “I just – it was one thing when we only had to worry about the two of us. Now that we've got Charlie, I need to make sure he's one hundred percent safe.”

“You know that I'd be packing our bags already if I thought Charlie was in any danger,” Blaine said, eyes softening. “I'd even forgo Halloween to make sure we could get out safely.”

“Wow, you really do love our kid,” Kurt teased, knowing Blaine loved any day where dressing up and getting free candy was the norm, even if they didn't strictly need food anymore.

“Well, his first word _was_ dada,” Blaine said, winking impishly at Kurt.

“His first word has to be an actual _word,_ B, not just a string of sounds that any fool can make,” Kurt said, seething. “His first recognizable word was papa!”

“Oh, and how is that not just a string of sounds?” Blaine accused.

“Dadadada papapapa!” Charlie cut in, laughing brightly and making both of his daddies join in.

“Do you love both of us, Charlie boy?” Kurt asked, reaching out for their son. Blaine handed him over obligingly, and Kurt cradled Charlie to his chest.

“Ah!” Charlie said, smiling.

“He really is adorable in this costume,” Kurt said, loving how well the black of Charlie's costume matched his hair.

“See? I told you,” Blaine said, smirking. “And it's better than dressing him as a clove of garlic or something.”

“You may have a point there,” Kurt said. “But next year, we're going in actual _costumes,_ not the outfits we wore when we first met. This just feels like cheating.”

“Deal,” Blaine said, snagging the plastic pumpkin they'd bought to hold Charlie's candy off the coffee table. “Candy time?”

“Candy time,” Kurt repeated, nodding once. “Oh, and dibs on all the KitKats!”

“No fair!” Blaine whined, but Kurt was already out the door. Vampire speed had to come in handy for _something_ , and that something was avoiding arguments over who got what candy.

Besides, Blaine always got all the Reese's cups. It was only fair.


	71. This Moment

Kurt carefully extricated himself from Blaine's embrace and rolled over to check their alarm clock, one of the few things they'd actually set up so far in their tiny new apartment. The bright blue numbers informed him that it was only 2:47 in the morning, so he stifled a groan and dragged himself out of bed, figuring a glass of water might help settle him down and reorient him. Sleeping in unfamiliar places seemed to be something he'd never really get used to – the same thing had happened when he and Rachel had first moved into the loft a few years back.

He padded softly down the hallway, grateful for the big kitchen window that let in just enough moonlight to see by. The place would look nicer once they hung a curtain there, of course, but Kurt figured he'd probably run into the kitchen island and stub his toe if he was navigating the layout totally blind.

Once he finally got to the kitchen, Kurt started rummaging around the boxes as quietly as possible, searching for a glass. He didn't want to wake Blaine, a notoriously light sleeper who sometimes found it difficult to fall back asleep if he was awakened. Since Blaine had ended up rearranging the DVD cabinet and carefully sorting all their magazines by size, color, and season last time he'd had a bout of insomnia, Kurt wasn't really itching to disturb his adorable, anal-retentive fiance.

Of course, his luck just couldn't hold out that long.

He managed to find and fill a glass with no problems, but as he idly sipped his drink and paced the kitchen as his mind wandered, he snagged his toe on a bunched section of their rug, causing him to flail madly as he tried to regain his balance. Thankfully, he didn't spill water all over the floor.

Not so thankfully, he accidentally punched a few buttons on the speaker system they'd plugged in (Blaine liked listening to music as he cooked), causing his Disney playlist to start blaring through the apartment at almost top volume.

As “Gaston” echoed off the walls, a disheveled-looking Blaine appeared at the end of the hallway, rubbing his eyes endearingly. “I like the song choice, but isn't it a little early for our alarm to be going off?”

“I'm sorry, honey, I tripped and hit the speakers because I was trying to walk and drink water at the same time,” Kurt said, lowering the volume so they wouldn't get a noise complaint before even meeting all of their neighbors. “Apparently I can't multitask.”

“It happens to the best of us,” Blaine said, punctuating his statement with a yawn. “You wanna maybe pause the tunes and come back to bed, though?”

“I couldn't sleep,” Kurt said. He set his glass in the sink before continuing, “And then I came out here and just started thinking.”

“About what?” Blaine asked, eyes sleepy yet curious.

“How happy I am that we've got an apartment together that's just _ours,_ not ours and Rachel's or ours now but potentially Santana's if and when she ever comes back. How excited I am to decorate this place and incorporate both of our personalities. How easy it'd be to convert that tiny spare room to a nursery if we're still living here when we decide to have our first kid. You know, really trivial stuff,” Kurt said with a wink.

“Yeah, super meaningless,” Blaine said, smirking. He walked over to Kurt and wrapped an arm around his waist, leaning both of their backs against the island. “But also amazing and mindboggling and absolutely, totally perfect.”

“I feel like I'm going to wake up tomorrow and it's going to be sophomore year again, and you'll be completely oblivious and I'll be pining away hopelessly all over again,” Kurt said, sighing and slumping slightly into Blaine's hold. “It hasn't always been an easy ride, but life has turned out so good for us, B.”

“My thoughts exactly, babe,” Blaine said. They relaxed in the kitchen silently for a moment until the song switched and Blaine turned to Kurt with a smile. “Hey. Dance with me.”

“What?”

“Dance with me. We can be like every bad romcom cliché – dancing at three am in our pajamas in our new apartment,” Blaine said, extending his other hand to Kurt. “I know the bad times will come again, but that just means we need to exploit the good ones for all we can, right?”

“You make a compelling argument,” Kurt said, smiling and allowing Blaine to drag him into the scant space between the island and the sink. He stooped a little and pressed his cheek to Blaine's, feeling the sleepiness seep back into his bones as Blaine revolved them around the kitchen over and over and over again.

When the song finally finished, Kurt whispered, “C'mon, I'm tired again,” and led Blaine back to their room, hearing the lyrics replaying in his head as he did.

_It's our turn and I'm lovin' where we're at  
Because this moment's really all we have._

_Everyday of our lives  
Wanna find you there  
Wanna hold on tight._


	72. Getting Funky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trufflemores told me to write Klaine dancing, so I wrote Klaine dancing.

Kurt leaned against the apartment's front door after shutting it behind himself, feeling some of the stiffness leak out of his spine. He let his eyes drift closed for a moment so he could take a minute to wallow in the funk that had been looming over him all day thanks to the spectacular combination of shitty weather, upcoming finals, and the coffee he'd spilled all over his arm on the way to work.

“I think a day like today calls for an Emergency Shame Music Dance Party,” he said, peeling himself off the door. He flipped open his laptop and opened iTunes, pulling up a playlist he'd only titled “other” and hitting shuffle. A smile bloomed involuntarily onto his face as the first song started blasting.

_I stay out too late_  
Got nothin' in my brain  
At least, that's what people say  
Mm-mm, that's what people say 

Kurt started bopping slowly to the beat, just tapping a toe at first before moving more and more parts of his body along with the music. By the time Taylor reached the bridge, Kurt was shimmying and twirling around the apartment like a four-year-old “ballerina” on caffeine.

The next few songs passed in much the same manner, with Kurt making minor adjustments to his moves to allow for the different tempos or styles of each. Finally, a song came on that Kurt couldn't help but belt along to as he danced, swinging and popping his hips.

_'Cause these are headstrong, crazy days  
When your mind's made up and the music plays_

_(Headstrong, can you feel the beat?  
Meltdown, can you feel the heat?)_

Kurt gave an especially dramatic thrust at that line, whirling around in fright at the hooting laughter that followed.

“You're such a dork,” Blaine said from the doorway, phone in one hand as the other wiped tears away from his eyes. “I mean, a cute dork, but still.”

“Blaine Anderson, you did _not_ just record that!” Kurt said, glaring daggers at his fiance.

“I'm not gonna post it anywhere, I just want it for me. You cheer yourself up by having dance parties, and I cheer myself up by watching you have dance parties,” Blaine said, giving Kurt an admittedly _very_ cute pleading look. “Would you like to talk about why you needed a dance party today, by the way?”

“No, it wasn't important,” Kurt said, flapping a hand dismissively. “Just a bunch of little things trying to drag me down. Come dance with me!” He started shimmying his shoulders and hips in time with the new song that had come on, prompting Blaine to toss his phone onto the nearby armchair before joining in.

Kurt couldn't stop laughing as Blaine shimmied up to him and held out a hand. When Kurt took it, Blaine started leading them in a bouncy, sloppy step-together-step pattern that threatened to knock over all their furniture and wasn't even really in time with the song.

“After all this time, your go-to move is the standard Warbler two-step?” Kurt teased.

“You still resort to the shimmy, even after Mike's booty camp sessions,” Blaine shot back, eyes sparkling. “You have no room to talk, babe.”

“Quiet, you,” Kurt said, holding up one of their entwined hands and indicating for Blaine to twirl under it. “Less joking, more dancing.”

“But you started-”

“I said more dancing,” Kurt interrupted, not allowing Blaine to point out the truth. While his Emergency Shame Music Dance Party had worked just fine when he was alone, it was going much better with a handsome partner to share it with, and he wanted that feeling to continue. The petty concerns of the outside world weren't going to intrude in their home, not if Kurt had anything to say about it.

(The high-intensity makeout session that ensued after Blaine knocked Kurt onto the couch after an overzealous spin also did wonders for Kurt's mood, if he was being entirely honest.)


	73. Good Morning

Blaine tiptoed into the bedroom, carefully balancing the tray he was holding – burning himself on hot coffee wouldn't really be a great way to start the day. He set the tray on his nightstand and plopped himself gently onto the bed, reaching out a hand to shake Kurt's shoulder.

“Kuuuurt.”

“Mmmf.”

_“Kuuuurt.”_

“No, s'early. Sleep,” Kurt muttered, curling into his pillow.

“I made you breakfast in bed for your birthday,” Blaine said, thinking food might perk up his evening person husband.

“S'not breakfast time. Can't possibly be morning already,” Kurt said. He must have been waking up a little, because he managed to enunciate most of what he was saying. Blaine took this as a good sign.

“It's already – wait, shit, it's only like eight o'clock,” Blaine said, catching a glimpse of their alarm clock. “That didn't take quite as long as I thought it would to cook.”

“It's not even eight?” Kurt asked, groaning. He rolled over and flung his arms around Blaine's waist, pulling Blaine down next to him and snuggling onto Blaine's chest with a satisfied smile. “That's like the middle of the night.”

“How did you even get up for high school every day?” Blaine asked, stroking Kurt's hair.

“I drank boatloads of coffee and hid my alarm clock in my closet so I had to get up to turn it off,” Kurt said. “I never want to see five thirty in the morning ever again.”

“Well, there go my plans for watching the sun rise with you tomorrow,” Blaine teased. “Damn.”

“It's my birthday, you're not allowed to sass me,” Kurt grumbled. “Especially if I haven't even had any coffee yet. My brain's so foggy that I can't think of a good retort.”

“Poor baby,” Blaine crooned, glad Kurt's eyes were closed so he couldn't see the shit-eating grin on Blaine's face. “I do have a mocha with your name on it over here, you know.”

“You do?!” Kurt said, sitting bolt upright and nearly smacking Blaine in the jaw with his head. “Gimme.”

“What'll you give me in return?” Blaine said, pushing himself up and winking at Kurt. He reached over to his nightstand and held the cup away teasingly.

“I won't hide all your hair gel for keeping me from my coffee,” Kurt said, glaring at Blaine in a way that just dared Blaine to cal his bluff.

Blaine didn't tempt fate. “Deal.” He handed Kurt the warm mug, and Kurt instantly knocked back a couple of long sips.

“Mmmm,” he said, smile blooming across his face. “Best birthday ever.”

“And you haven't even seen your present yet.”

“I already love it. I love _you._ I'm so glad you're my husband, B,” Kurt said, leaning in and giving Blaine a quick, chocolaty kiss.

“You're just saying that because I brought you food and let you use me as a pillow,” Blaine said, grabbing his own mug and swigging.

“So what if I am?” Kurt teased.

“Then I'm eating the cinnamon roll I got you and I won't be sorry.”

“You're evil.”

“No, I'm not,” Blaine said, putting his mug back so he could hand Kurt the cinnamon roll he'd decorated with a candle. He quickly struck a match and lit it. “Make a wish!”

“Like there's anything I need to wish for right now.” Kurt made a show of closing his eyes and thinking anyways before he blew out the candle and dug in.

“So did you wish for that new Gucci-”

“If I tell you, it won't come true!”


	74. Bee My Little Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt's high as a kite off morphine. This leads to an interesting conversation.

The first noise Blaine heard his husband make after awakening from his anesthesia was a high-pitched giggle.

“Everything's shiny,” Kurt said amidst his laughter. “Like bubbles. Or glitter!”

“Wow, babe, they really pumped some morphine into you, didn't they?” Blaine asked, laughing along.

Kurt turned his head, eyes lighting up as they focused hazily on Blaine. “Blaine! You're here!”

“Of course I'm here, honey. I wouldn't just leave you in the middle of your emergency appendectomy,” Blaine said, scooting his chair closer so he could take Kurt's hand. “I was worried about you.”

“Don't be worried, B, I'm fiiiine,” Kurt said, slurring a little. “Heh heh, you're my B and you look like a bee right now. Your hair is so _fuzzy._ ” He pulled his hand out from Blaine's grip and started running it through Blaine's ungelled curls.

Suddenly, Blaine regretted throwing on a yellow and black striped polo in his rush to get dressed and get Kurt into the hospital.

“Hey, you're a bee, too, you know. Remember that baby name website we were on a couple days ago?” Blaine said, removing Kurt's hand from his hair. “'Hummel' originally meant 'bee.'”

“Yes, but you don't call me 'bee.' You call me 'baby.' I like it,” Kurt said, fixing Blaine with a look that was probably meant to be serious but lost some of its effect thanks to the cross-eye Kurt had going from his painkillers. “You're B and I'm baby, and that's just how it works.”

“Whatever you say, baby,” Blaine teased, kind of wishing he was recording this interaction to show Kurt when he was sober. “Just remember that you told me you like 'baby' when you inevitably complain about my pet names in the future.”

“I'm just tryna keep you on your toes, Blaine,” Kurt said, clumsily patting Blaine's thigh. “I'll lose all my street cred if people find out I like your pet names.”

“You have street cred?” Blaine asked. “Since when?”

Kurt attempted to give Blaine a withering glare. Blaine pretended it was as effective as always.

“I stand corrected. You've always had street cred,” Blaine said, trying to stifle his laughter. “The scar you're probably going to have from this surgery will only make you look more badass, and no one will have to know that you like it when I call you baby.”

“And sweetheart. Sweetheart is good, too,” Kurt mumbled. His little burst of energy must finally have been wearing out.

“How about pookie? Or maybe honey bear?” Blaine said, unable to keep himself from teasing Kurt.

“Blaine. This is not Rent. You are not a freewheeling lesbian who looks oddly like Rachel's mother,” Kurt said, letting out a yawn.

“And thank God for that,” Blaine said, shuddering slightly.

“”M tired,” Kurt said, still loopy enough to not care about abrupt topic changes.

“Go to sleep, baby. When you wake up, we'll see if you're recovered enough to walk around and get discharged.”

“Hope so. Hate hospitals,” Kurt muttered as his eyes closed. “Don't go, 'kay?”

“Never,” Blaine said. He waited for Kurt's breathing to even out before allowing his own eyes to shut as he slumped down in his chair. A grin spread across his face as he drifted to sleep, still gleeful over Kurt's (admittedly not sober) admission that he liked Blaine's pet names. He was gonna get so much mileage out of that once Kurt was lucid.

(Sure enough, Blaine milked that confession for about three weeks until Kurt finally threatened to burn all his sheet music. Was it worth it? Totally.)


	75. Wherever I'm With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is basically just fluff about snuggles.

Kurt was not a hugger. His personal space was _his_ personal space, dammit, and that wasn't about to change any time soon.

However, Kurt would admit to liking having another person close by after days where it felt like everything went awry and his head was cloudy with doubt and overanalysis. Looking over and seeing that someone else was there, that he wasn't alone and floating in a world where no one cared about anyone else always helped focus him. In the days when his father was that person, it was enough to just lean over and rest his head on his dad's shoulder for a minute when he really needed the reminder.

When that person became Blaine, however, Kurt suddenly found himself wanting to _snuggle._

It usually wasn't too hard to achieve that goal. Blaine was the most tactile person Kurt had ever met, and he was always down for snuggling while watching a movie or spooning during an impromptu power nap. Kurt's infrequent yet powerful cravings for touching and closeness were pretty easily satisfied when Blaine was around.

When Blaine _wasn't_ around, though, things got a little hairy, and of course Kurt had to be going through one of his ridiculous snuggly phases when Blaine was on the other side of the country. That was just his luck.

Kurt made do by curling up on the couch with Blaine's pillow in his arms and their coziest fleece blanket on top of him. Since he was also in flannel pajama pants and his softest t-shirt, he knew was likely to get a killer static shock once he tried to sit up, but at that moment, he couldn't bring himself to care. He was tired and feeling a cold settling in and-

"Lonely, dammit," he muttered to himself, needing to hear an actual voice. "I'm twenty-two years old and pining for my boyfriend like a pre-teen, ugh. Next I'll be crying over a Lifetime movie and eating too much ice cream."

He grabbed the remote off the coffee table, shocking himself and cursing loudly in the process, and started flicking through channels, hoping to find something mindless and fun to watch to distract himself. He settled on _The Wizard of Oz_ when he saw it on one of the classic movie channels, curling himself closer to Blaine's pillow so he could catch a whiff of Blaine's scent and pretend like Blaine was there with him.

Kurt drifted in and out of awareness as the movie played, either napping briefly or getting too caught up in his headspace before focusing back in on the film for a while. Just as Dorothy was about to click her heels together and return to Kansas, a very familiar voice chimed in with her line.

"There's no place like home...there's no place like home...there's no place like home," Blaine quoted, smiling broadly at Kurt as he rolled his suitcase in behind him. "I can't say I disagree."

"Blaine, what are you doing back?" Kurt asked, a little afraid that he had developed a fever without noticing and was just hallucinating Blaine's return. "You were supposed to be in L.A. for another five days!"

"The casting director got called off on a family emergency," Blaine said, toeing off his shoes and flinging his coat over the back of the nearby chair. "So my audition has been rebooked for next week, and it's actually gonna be here in the city this time."

Kurt let out an explosive sneeze.

"You okay, babe?" Blaine asked, looking concerned.

"I think I'm coming down with a cold," Kurt said, making a face when he noticed the scratch in his throat. "And I've just been feeling kind of mentally blah the past couple days, too."

Blaine walked over to Kurt and pulled his pillow out of Kurt's arms so there was enough room for him to lie down on the couch instead. "You wanna talk about it, honey?"

"Maybe later," Kurt said. He dropped his head onto Blaine's shoulder, loving how soothing the knit of Blaine's sweater felt under his cheek. "A lot of it has just been too many little annoyances piling up on me at once, it's not the end of the world. Right now I just want to enjoy having my husband home a little earlier than planned."

"I could be okay with that," Blaine teased, running a hand through Kurt's hair and down his back.

"I'm sorry if I get you sick," Kurt said with a sniffle.

"I'll get us both some OJ in a minute," Blaine said. "We'll keep my immune system healthy and try to boost yours back up."

Kurt yawned, feeling more relaxed than he had in days, even with the grossness of his impending cold settling in. "Okay."

"Go to sleep, baby. I'm not gonna make it much longer myself, my flight was a turbulence nightmare and I'm kind of frazzled."

"Okay," Kurt repeated, already dozing off.

As he caught a whiff of Blaine's scent, fresh and wonderful since it was right from the source, he had one thought run through his mind: _there really is no place like home._


	76. Just Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from trufflemores: overeating snuggles.

Kurt stood still outside the door to his and Blaine's apartment, wondering what the _hell_ he'd just heard in their living room. It sounded like a beached, dying whale had taken up residence on their floor, and they definitely didn't have that kind of floor space.

He unlocked and opened the door carefully, hoping he wasn't about to walk in on the weirdest possible home invasion. The sight he saw upon entering, though, was much less traumatizing, thankfully.

Blaine lay on the couch moaning in sorrow, clad only in loose sweatpants. One arm was flung over his eyes haphazardly, while the other was cradling his little puff of a belly, which looked a little more pronounced than usual.

"Are you okay, B?" Kurt asked, concerned. "Do I need to call an ambulance or something? I could hear you moaning from outside the door."

Blaine started a little on the couch, dropping his arm and tilting his head to give Kurt a pitiful look. "I'll be fine," he said (not super convincingly, in Kurt's opinion, but that was a moot point). "I just need to never move again."

"Did Tina hurt you somehow today, Blaine? I swear to God, if she forced you into something you didn't want, I'll kill her, upcoming wedding or no-"

"Baby. Tina did not purposely hurt me in the name of wedding planning today, I swear," Blaine said, looking fondly exasperated. "She needed a buddy for cake tasting since Mike's out of town, remember?"

"Yeeees," Kurt said, not really following. Cake tasting was an activity he generally associated with happiness and positivity, not agonized groaning.

"Well, this bakery doesn't just give little tastes of the cakes they're sampling for you," Blaine explained, pushing up on one elbow and getting a pained look on his face. "They give each person a whole slice."

"Still not seeing the problem here," Kurt said, mouth watering at the thought. _Ooooh, do we still have some of that cheesecake from the other night in the fridge?_

"Tina made us sample twelve flavors of cake today," Blaine said, and Kurt winced in sympathy.

"And now I understand why you're groaning," Kurt said, walking over to the couch. He picked up Blaine's legs so he had room to sit, draping Blaine's legs over his lap once he was comfy. "Is Tina actually crazy? Who needs to sample twelve flavors of wedding cake?"

"She only ate about four slices before she got too full. She made me eat the rest and give her detailed descriptions of the flavor," Blaine said, flinging his arm back over his eyes. "The debates we got into about adjectives and their meanings made the bakers give us odd looks. I thought one was going to call the cops and have us escorted out before we finished our session."

"Oh, honey," Kurt said, rubbing Blaine's legs gently.

"I feel like that kid from _Matilda_ , you know, the one who was forced to eat an entire cake as punishment?" Blaine said. "I don't think I'm ever going to be able to eat dessert again. Hell, I might never eat _anything_ again."

"Is there something I can do for you, sweetie?" Kurt asked, letting his hands just rest on Blaine's thighs. He was half-considering trying to avenge Blaine's honor by inviting himself over to Tina and Mike's place soon and rearranging her seating chart, but that probably wouldn't help Blaine very much right then.

"Could you grab the heating pad for me?" Blaine asked, hitting Kurt full-force with his big, golden, puppy-dog eyes.

"Of course," Kurt said, extracting himself from underneath Blaine and heading for their medicine cabinet. He found their heating pad quickly and hustled it back to Blaine, glad there was an outlet close to their couch so Blaine didn't have to move. "That feel good, B?"

"Oh God yeah," Blaine said, visibly relaxing into the couch. "I wish I would've thought to grab this when I was pulling my sweatpants on earlier."

"I have to earn my keep somehow," Kurt teased.

"I'd be sure to keep you around if you came here and spooned me for a while," Blaine said, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Well, if I _have_ to," Kurt said, huffing out a sigh. He waited for Blaine to roll onto his side and scoot closer to the edge of the couch before clambering in behind him and pulling him close, hoping the arm he draped over Blaine's tummy felt more comforting than unpleasant. The warmth radiating from the heating pad felt good against his still-slightly-chilled skin - it was chilly for April. "You good now?"

"Very," Blaine said, sounding close to sleep. "Don't let me burn myself, mkay?"

"Never," Kurt said, kissing the back of Blaine's neck. He tucked his cheek against the top of Blaine's head and let himself relax, enjoying the solid feel of his husband. He'd probably have a face full of gel by the time he woke up from the nap he felt coming on, but it would be worth it.

Blaine always was.


End file.
